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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682071">Blackbird</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrchelle/pseuds/rawrchelle'>rawrchelle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Classical Music, Classical Music, F/M, Friendship, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 05:55:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>24,508</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25682071</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rawrchelle/pseuds/rawrchelle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rivetra. AU. Petra sees Levi fairly frequently, either in the student lounge or the communal kitchen, sitting in the furthest possible seat away from other people, always poring over their solfege homework or practicing his conducting with his earphones plugged in. She usually leaves him alone in those moments of intense concentration—but there’s something alluring about how hard he works, as if the genius rate at which he’s learning still isn’t fast enough for him. Even in the evenings, when everyone is relaxing, it always seems like he’s somewhere else, his stormy eyes gazing off toward some faraway land, wrist flicking to music she can’t hear.</p><p>In which Petra is living her dreams and Levi’s trying to find a new start. Of moveable solfa, choral conducting, and both of them getting much more than they bargained for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Levi/Petra Ral</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Autumn - The Collision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This fic is fully self-gratuitous due to the fact that it’s a tribute to the school that changed my life, as well as the first pairing that truly tugged at my heartstrings since SasuSaku. Nevertheless, I’m sharing it in case anyone else wants to indulge. Writing this felt like a homecoming.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She is listening to her friends debate the merit of practice room schedules when she first sees him.</p><p>His short stature, symmetrical features, and startlingly foul expression is what follows Zoë’s trail as she approaches their already crowded table at their favorite café.</p><p>“<em>Erwin</em>. Look who I ran into on my way here.”</p><p>Erwin is the only one who recognizes this unfamiliar face. “Levi! It’s great to see you. I thought you were arriving tomorrow.”</p><p>This man, Levi, shrugs nonchalantly. “I thought it’d be better to come earlier, get settled.” His voice is deep, only slightly accented (<em>Austrian? German?</em>), and filled with enough disdain to match his face. Is he okay? Or is that just how he looks and how he talks?</p><p>Zoë pulls up two chairs and everyone shuffles yet a little closer together, and as the conversation resumes, she learns that Levi is close friends with Zoë and Erwin from back home in Germany. That he’s looking to make a career change, and decided to try music out. That he was an tradesperson in a former life, but has always been interested in formal music training and thought that maybe Zoë and Erwin had the right idea.</p><p><em>You can’t just come to a place like this with no prior training,</em> Petra thinks to herself. She doesn’t voice this thought though, because he <em>is</em> here, after all, and being here means that he’s submitted audition tapes that the instructors clearly approved of. This institution is small, tucked away in a little city in Hungary, and in her two years of being here, there hasn’t been a person who isn’t already musically trained. He must have a trick or two up his sleeve.</p><p>Petra smiles at Levi when he catches her staring at him, but he doesn’t smile back. It’s a bit intimidating.</p><p>Still, he’s only here for the one year diploma program. She’s coming in on the third year of her degree—she probably won’t see much of him in class, if at all. If the most he’ll do is ignore her in their social circle, not much in her life will change.</p>
<hr/><p>She is <em>very</em> surprised when she sees his face at the first advanced conducting class of the year.</p><p>“O-Oh, Levi, hi! You’re here for advanced conducting?”</p><p>He glances at her from his seat at the long, wooden table. “Yeah. Petra, right?”</p><p>“Uh huh.” She glances around and sees that no one has arrived yet, and pulls out the chair beside him to sit. The familiar scene of the podium and two pianos at the front of the room beckons her, making her nostalgic and excited at the same time. “You must have a lot of conducting experience, then, to have been accepted into this class.”</p><p>“Sort of. I conducted my church choir back at home, but I never got any formal conducting training.”</p><p>“Oh. Well, that’s still cool.” She glances at the crisp, new notebook he already has opened in front of him. “You’re sure prepared.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>Levi seems fairly comfortable with silence, but Petra is not, and she begins to fill it. “This isn’t really the class to take notes. It’s more about doing, watching, absorbing—taking everything in, really.”</p><p>“Then how do you remember everything that’s being taught?”</p><p>“Well, it’s sort of”—she fidgets under his hard stare—“sort of an experiential thing.”</p><p>“That makes no sense.”</p><p>Something about the way he talks makes her feel defensive. “Yeah, well, we musicians do things a little differently.” To see him disregard her experience here on his first day feels invalidating.</p><p>His gaze rests on her for a moment longer, and then he scoffs and turns away, seemingly deciding that he’s finished with this conversation. “Okay, then.”</p><p>Petra’s cheeks heat up at the prospect of having ruined a friendship before it even began due to her pride, but before she gathers up the courage to apologize, the rest of their classmates burst into the room like a litter of kittens. Eld, Gunther and Oluo are her fellow bachelor students, and Zoë and Erwin are both in the final year of their master’s degrees. They all wave and say hello, but the conversation dies quickly when their quirky yet genius instructor, Pyxis, enters the room shortly after them.</p><p>Petra sinks back in her chair, feeling Levi’s overbearing presence beside her, and wonders what she got herself into.</p>
<hr/><p>He is <em>amazing</em>.</p><p>It would be infuriating how innately talented he is if it weren’t so incredible. With the way he steps onto the podium and makes eye contact with each person before beginning, she can’t help but play for him, even though her measly piano line is only a representation of what the soprano line would be were there a real choir here. There is an intensity in his eyes that draws her in and makes her respond exactly how his body moves.</p><p>And even though he isn’t perfect, it takes little time for him to fix the things Pyxis points out. With each iteration, there is a little change—his feet spreading shoulder width apart, his body stilling before his cue, his fingers relaxing and palms opening. These are technical things someone should already know before joining this class, but Pyxis saw something in Levi, and Petra understands why. He’s a natural.</p><p>When it’s her turn, she has to try very hard to focus on Erwin and Eld at the pianos instead of Levi at the back of the room, staring intently at her. She finds her hands trembling slightly, like the very first time she stepped onto this podium two years ago. As Pyxis teaches her, she notices Levi mimicking his motions, and then hers, practicing the techniques required for her specific piece. The rapt attention with which he pays her makes her feel so big and yet so small at the same time.</p><p>“I get it,” he says to Petra at the end of class. She raises her eyebrows in question. And although his lips are still set in that deep frown, something in his eyes sparkles. “It’s experiential.”</p><p>He closes his notebook and shoves it into his bag. He hadn’t written a single thing down.</p>
<hr/><p>When she sees him the next day in her solfege class (the second most advanced class in the entire institute, but who’s keeping track?), she’s no longer surprised.</p><p>He looks stiffer than usual, understandably, because Mike is leaning over and sniffing him. She gives her classmate a gentle smack on the head and takes a seat on his other side. “Can’t you tell you’re making him uncomfortable?”</p><p>“I’m Mike,” he says to Levi, and sticks out his hand. Petra sighs; he didn’t even introduce himself before deciding to practically bury his nose in Levi’s hair.</p><p>Levi glances at Mike’s outstretched hand, then at Mike’s face, and then his eyes rest on Petra. She shrugs, a simple message of <em>he’s harmless, really,</em> and he finally takes Mike’s hand, albeit begrudgingly. “Levi.”</p><p>“You’re in for an enlightening year, friend—”</p><p>“We’re not friends.”</p><p>“There is always more to learn in a small class, and there’s only the three of us this year.”</p><p>Levi leans over to peer past Mike and speak to Petra. “You mean you were alone with this freak before I came along?”</p><p>She nearly sputters at his brashness. “N-No, but people come and go. Everyone else in our class graduated last year.”</p><p>Levi crosses his arms and leans back in his seat, expression souring. Before Petra can wonder why he seems to be grumpy literally <em>all the time</em>, Mike is all up in her face and smelling her. “You haven’t changed. You still carry some of the ocean with you.”</p><p>“I’ve showered since traveling halfway across the continent, if that’s what you’re implying!”</p><p>“Of course. But we all carry a piece of home with us.”</p><p>She wonders what Mike’s keen sense of smell told him about Levi—what secrets of his home he carries with him, whether it be Berlin’s dark history or Frankfurt’s bustling metropolis or Munich’s infamous Oktoberfest. She wonders if he grew up in a big city or on a small farm, if he prefers to drive or to take the train. And then she wonders why she’s wondering that at all.</p>
<hr/><p>“My brain is tired,” she sighs two hours later when class is finally over. The first solfege class after summer break is always a doozy.</p><p>“Me too, but there’s no rest for the wicked,” Mike says. He’s already packing up his things.</p><p>“What do you have now?”</p><p>“I’m observing Reiss’s pedagogy class.”</p><p>“Seriously? You know he’s going to make you do the work even though you’re not enrolled, right?”</p><p>“Like I said.” He shrugs. “No rest for the wicked.”</p><p>“Okay.” She watches him stride out of the room like a man on a mission. “Bye.” Mike’s always been intense that way, observing every class he can, taking in as much as possible. After two years of knowing him, Petra isn’t surprised by his behavior anymore.</p><p>Only she and Levi are left in the silent classroom. She begins to pack up her things as well, pondering what to do over her long lunch break. When she glances over at Levi, he’s staring blankly at the Bach chorale they had just sang through. “You okay?” She peers over at the score and sees quick scribbles under the his bass line: chicken scratch of letters that indicate which solfa syllables to sing. She remembers just ten minutes ago him being reprimanded for singing them incorrectly. “Is there anything I can help you out with?”</p><p>“No.” Pause. “Yes.”</p><p>“Sure.” She moves into Mike’s seat, and waits.</p><p>“I’ve technically had some music training before. I learned violin as a kid. But my teacher taught me fixed solfa, not moveable.”</p><p>Petra clicks her tongue. “Ah.” Of course an instrumentalist would learn fixed. “Yeah, we don’t do that here.”</p><p>“I gathered.”</p><p>“The idea of moveable is pretty simple though, once you have a strong understanding of all the keys. It’s based on the idea that the first scale degree is <em>do</em>, the second is <em>re</em>, and so on. So at the beginning here, <em>do</em> is G. But when it modulates near the end, <em>do</em> is D.”</p><p>“I know.” There’s an edge to his voice, but Petra has an inkling that he’s more frustrated at himself than her. He doesn’t seem to be the type of person who doesn’t understand things. “But it modulates here too.” He points to the middle of the chorale, where his chicken scratch is by far the scratchiest. “And <em>do</em> is still G.”</p><p>“Yeah, because that’s the relative minor of G-major.”</p><p>“But you <em>just said</em> that the first scale degree would be <em>do</em>, so it should be E.”</p><p>“Well, no. Because we do la-based minor.” Levi looks just about ready to take her out back and beat her up, but she tries not to take it personally. “The idea is that it highlights both the relationship between the relative major and minor keys and the main tonal differences between the two modes.”</p><p>An indiscernible thought flashes across his eyes, but he doesn’t voice it. “That makes sense. Thank you.”</p><p>“It’s no problem, really. Is there anything else I could help you with?”</p><p>He hesitates. “I’ll figure it out.”</p><p>She stifles a small chuckle. “You really don’t like asking for help, do you?” He doesn’t answer. “How about this. I’m getting hungry, so why don’t you buy me a sandwich in exchange for my tutelage. Then you won’t owe me anything.”</p><p>Petra doesn’t care to analyze why she so badly wants him to say yes, but when he begrudgingly accepts her offer, she beams.</p>
<hr/><p>She sees him fairly frequently, either in the student lounge or the communal kitchen, sitting in the furthest possible seat away from other people, always poring over their solfege homework or practicing his conducting with his earphones plugged in. She usually leaves him alone in those moments of intense concentration—but there’s something alluring about how hard he works to catch up, as if the genius rate at which he’s learning still isn’t fast enough for him. Even in the evenings, when everyone is eating dinner or hanging out together, it always seems like he’s somewhere else, his stormy eyes gazing off toward some faraway land, wrist flicking to music she can’t hear.</p>
<hr/><p>He sits right behind her in choir.</p><p>As they rehearse the Agnus Dei of Liszt’s <em>Missa choralis</em> and Petra is concentrating on passing the phrase back and forth between the sopranos and basses like they had been asked, she can’t help but notice how innately Levi seems to understand, how he is so inherently sensitive in every moment and can take her phrase (it’s not hers, she reminds herself, it’s her entire section’s) exactly where it ends and continues it, keeping it alive with the low rumble of his voice.</p><p>They’re in the beginning stages of rehearsing and still using solfa (moveable, of course), but he seems to already have gotten the hang of it. (<em>But of course he would. Something that might take people years to become comfortable with would only take him weeks.</em>) So when choir is over, she isn’t sure if it’s the delirium of evening rehearsal or the sheer inspiration he instills in her that makes her turn around in her seat.</p><p>“Your voice is <em>beautiful</em>, you know that?” Erwin, who sits beside Levi, casts her a look. “And I just want to say that I see how hard you work, and I really admire you.”</p><p>“I do what I can,” Levi responds. She frowns, because she doesn’t like the matter-of-fact tone with which he speaks, as if everything he’s accomplished in his first month here isn’t worth recognition, as if somehow what he’s doing is to be expected.</p><p>“No,” she insists. “You’re really great. Give yourself more credit.”</p><p>“Stop it, Petra, you’ll embarrass him!” Zoë saunters over—is it just her, or does Levi’s perpetual scowl deepen just a little?—and gives him a maternal pat on the head. “Our little Levi here doesn’t like being babied.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” he says, swatting Zoë’s hand away.</p><p>“I’ve never seen Levi genuinely accept a compliment,” Erwin says.</p><p>“Don’t need them.”</p><p>“We all need <em>something</em> to hold onto at the end of the day. What do you have, Levi?” Zoë drapes her arms over Levi’s shoulders and rests her chin on top of his head. Petra watches his jaw clench. “Hey, let’s eat out tonight—I want Italian.”</p><p>“Get <em>off</em> of me, you wench.”</p><p>“I want ice cream for dessert,” Erwin declares.</p><p>Petra lights up. “Me too, me too!”</p>
<hr/><p>And it is on this temperate autumn evening as the sun sets beyond the skyline, strolling down the cobblestone boulevard, that she discovers that Levi’s ice cream flavor of choice is coffee.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ve written classical music AUs before where I purposely censored myself so people wouldn’t be confused, but I decided that I would just do what I want this time. Still, I did try to make things relatively clear, and I’m happy to answer questions if anything is not. And please, if you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it!</p><p>Here is your fun fact about Hungary for today: It is known for its comprehensive and successful music education system, and music educators from all over the world congregate there to study their methods and take them back to their home countries.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Autumn, Part 2 - Budapest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is a chilly November Monday when Petra finally rolls out of bed upon hearing the distant bells in the town square strike noon. She stretches her back, which cracks in protest, and yawns widely.</p><p>It is the first day of their autumn break, and the dorms are quiet.</p><p>Most students leave the institute during the breaks; some people go home for the week, and some others prefer to travel. Petra stays put more often than some others because plane tickets are expensive, but she doesn’t mind—it’s actually nice that the building is silent once in a while, rather than constantly being filled with a mishmash of dissonant music-making.</p><p>This time around, Gunther, Oluo, and Eld are exploring Iceland. Erwin returned home to Germany as he always does, and Zoë is by herself in Croatia because she likes to travel alone (although why anyone would want to go to Croatia, Petra isn’t sure). She did wonder what Levi’s plans were, but didn’t get to ask him before she was hit with her annual head cold and was left incapacitated for the entire weekend.</p><p>She isn’t left to ponder the topic for very long. After making herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen, she strolls through the halls of the school, admiring the way the sun shines in through the arched windows, warming the marble floors. As she passes by the practice rooms, she hears a familiar Schubert lied echoing through the hall. She stops to listen, enjoying the warm and rich harmonies—and two measures later, a deep voice begins to sing.</p><p>It would be an embarrassment to not know who it belongs to, after listening to it week in and week out. Of course <em>he</em> would be the one practicing on the very first day of break.</p><p>The music abruptly stops when she knocks on the door of the practice room. There is no invitation—and at this point, she doesn’t expect one—but she cracks the door open anyway and steps in.</p><p>“Good morning.” She smiles and closes the door behind her. “You sound good.” Levi’s eyes, lazy and relaxed, give her a once over.</p><p>She can imagine how she looks right now: unbrushed hair, navy blue pajamas, barefoot. Her cheeks warm with embarrassment, and she takes a large gulp of her coffee to avoid noticing his scrutiny.</p><p>“Are you feeling better?” he asks. The way his voice rumbles, hoarse, as if it’s the first time he’s speaking today, resonates with something deep inside of her.</p><p>“Yeah. Good as new.”</p><p>In the small room, the window is cracked open to combat the radiator that blasts heat like there’s no tomorrow. Levi is sitting at the upright piano, wearing sweats and a dark green t-shirt. It’s the most casual she’s ever seen him.</p><p>“Is it okay if I intrude on your practicing?” Even as she asks, she already has her hand on the doorknob, ready to leave. His eyes flit towards this motion, and after a moment, he shrugs.</p><p>“Do what you want.”</p><p>When he’s with Zoë, his language is foul and his expression is sour. But Petra, being mild-mannered most of the time, doesn’t bring forth such disdain—rather, she seems to extract some sort of comfortable nonchalance, and she doesn’t find it nearly as repugnant as she did when they first met.</p><p>“You’re working hard,” she observes, noting the books and scores strewn across the table. She slides into an empty chair and squeezes her coffee tight between her palms.</p><p>He swings his legs around the piano bench to face her, and shrugs again. “I have to.”</p><p>“Did you notice that no one’s practicing? We <em>are</em> on break, you know.”</p><p>“I have to,” he repeats. There’s a tightness in his jaw—something she notices every time he’s slow to answer a question in solfege class, every time he can’t fix something on his first try when Pyxis is teaching him. It’s a subtle tick, almost unnoticeable, except that Petra has always noticed everything about everyone and she can’t help but think that Levi never thinks he’s good enough.</p><p>“Okay,” she says. “Play for me. Let me hear.”</p><p>So he does. It’s ironic that he can play Schubert so well, given how crass and unfeeling he comes across. When he begins to sing, the piano falters; it’s rougher than she’s used to hearing from him in class, but the expression is clearly there. His body slowly leans forward as he crescendos, and her breath hitches in her throat when he hits his falsetto, voice soaring over the accompanying chords. The final notes of the piano resonate for precisely two beats before he lifts the pedal, and the room falls into silence.</p><p>“I <em>love</em> your phrasing,” she exhales. She knows he doesn’t like her compliments, but she can’t help it—his musicianship evokes something in her, even when it’s imperfect, even when he doesn’t believe in it. “You always manage to keep the momentum without pushing the tempo. Also, your German is perfect. Obviously.”</p><p>“Give me your criticisms,” he says, carefully sidestepping her praise. He doesn’t look at her when he speaks.</p><p>Petra sets her coffee down and moves to sit beside Levi on the piano bench. He jolts when her hip presses against his own. “Okay, well, the general rule is to not accent the last note of the phrase, so be careful of those spots. And obviously there’s this bit here that you need to work on, but I don’t really have any advice there because I’m struggling too; I just keep freaking out and my fingers sort of spasm.” She glances at him to see if he has any response to her attempt at humor—no, of course he doesn’t. “Your intonation is perfect, as always. Your sing-and-plays are always good, Levi, I don’t know why you’re so hard on yourself.”</p><p>“I didn’t—” His hands ball into fists in his lap, and then they relax again. “I didn’t just come here to be <em>good</em>.”</p><p>It was a poor choice of words for this moment, Petra thinks. If she knew how drastically he would react to being called <em>good</em>, she wouldn’t have toned down the compliment. What she had really wanted to call him was <em>intuitive</em> and <em>emotive</em> and <em>a force of nature</em>, but she sometimes dials it back for him.</p><p>She could give him a whole speech about how talented he is, how some people could practice all their lives and still never reach his level, but Levi isn’t really a person of words. So instead, she huffs and crosses her arms. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this shit from someone who got called out for falling asleep in class last week.”</p><p>“Excuse me?”</p><p>“You bitch about how you ‘didn’t come here to be good’, and yet you don’t bust your ass in all of your classes? What kind of attitude is that?”</p><p>“It was <em>Folk Music</em>. That class is a joke and it’s not going to make me a better musician.”</p><p>“Any great musician knows that music is about more than just practicing your performing skills.”</p><p>“Look who’s talking. I’m pretty sure Eld mentioned not long ago that you constantly slept through your first year philosophy class.”</p><p>“…Okay, in my defense, it’s at eight o’clock in the morning and <em>so dull</em>. Aren’t you taking it right now too?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s dog shit.”</p><p>Petra can’t disguise the giddiness in her laughter—of course this would be the way to cheer Levi up. When she turns to look at him, his mouth is curled into a half-smile, which is more mirth than she’s ever personally seen from him.</p><p>“I’m going to Budapest on Friday,” she blurts out before thinking. “Come with me.”</p><p>His question of <em>why?</em> is asked plain as day through his silence and raised eyebrows. Petra suddenly remembers that their bodies are still pressed together, hip to hip and thigh to thigh; she’s close enough to see the dark grey speckles in his eyes, and she gets lost in them for a heartbeat before she returns to reality.</p><p>“Concert tickets here are dirt cheap and The King’s Singers are performing. We’ll make a day trip out of it—I’ll show you some of my favorite spots and we’ll catch the last train back. What do you say?”</p><p>She half expects him to decline; half expects him to scoff at the idea of being a tourist; half expects him to reprimand her for spending her time like this instead of practicing.</p><p>But instead he nods; “Yeah, okay”; and returns his attention to the Schubert in front of them. He begins to practice again, this time sotto voce and introspective, and Petra knows that this is his way of saying goodbye to her. She only watches his fingers on the keys for a moment longer before quietly retrieving her coffee and leaving the practice room. She adamantly ignores the way her heart is racing.</p><p>The spot where his leg was pressed to hers feels hot. She stands with her back to the door for a long time afterwards, eyes closed and ears open, listening to him sing.</p><hr/><p>At some point in the recent past, the prospect of spending any time alone with Levi, let alone an entire day, would terrify Petra. And it might still, if she didn’t have any classes with him.</p><p>He’s mean and standoffish with their friends, but he’s quiet and earnest in class. Music-making is so inherently vulnerable, and watching him conduct and singing trios with him and Mike has allowed her to see a side of him she didn’t expect. It would be no stretch of the imagination for Petra to say that she admires Levi and is inspired by him—but maybe there’s something else there too, something that she isn’t so sure she wants to face.</p><p>He’s already waiting outside her room on Friday morning, leaning against the wall with crossed arms and closed eyes. He looks like he’s sleeping, Petra thinks, but of course he’s not—his eyes open in the next moment and he looks her up and down.</p><p>“The forecast says it might rain today.”</p><p>She compares what she’s wearing (sneakers, jeans, shirt, a thin jacket) to what he’s wearing (boots, khakis, and what she assumes is a thick sweater underneath his heavy jacket). He also has a black scarf wrapped around his neck and an umbrella poking out of his backpack.</p><p>“Nah, it’ll be fine.” She gives the subject a dismissive wave. “You’re going to be way too warm, you know. The trains are really hot during the day.”</p><p>“Better safe than sorry,” he says, shrugging. “Ready to go?”</p><p>“Yup.”</p><hr/><p>She’s right, of course. She can feel the thin layer of perspiration forming on her neck the moment they climb onto the train. It’s closing in on thirty degrees, and once they settle down in an empty compartment where the heat blasts relentlessly from under the seats, they start stripping down their layers.</p><p>“Are they fucking insane?” Levi mutters under his breath, pulling off his scarf and jacket. He pushes up the sleeves of his thick woolen sweater, but Petra doubts that it helps much.</p><p>“They constantly want it to feel like summer. It’s pretty awful.”</p><p>They sit in silence for some time, watching the flat Hungarian countryside pass them by. It’s a sight familiar to Petra; she’s made numerous trips to Budapest for both class and leisure, and seeing the endless plains and occasional farm makes her feel at home.</p><p>Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Levi’s hand begin to move. She recognizes the specific spot that Pyxis had him working on a week ago, and sits up. “Want to practice on me?”</p><p>“It’s that one breath,” he says. “I don’t know how to give it without changing the tempo when there’s no rest.”</p><p>She remembers practicing that while Levi was on the podium and finding it difficult too. “What I think Pyxis was trying to get at was that the quicker the breath is going to be, the further ahead you have to prep it. You kept on only giving the cue half a beat before it”—Petra demonstrates as such—“but I think if you stop mirroring and hold your left hand still as a visual marker that something’s going to happen a full beat ahead, it’ll be a lot clearer.” She shows him again with the slight change, and watches him follow her hands and breathe in sync with her. “See? Easier to follow, right?”</p><p>“Yeah.” He mimics her actions, likely executing them with more grace than she did; his ictus is so <em>constant</em>, unlike hers which has a bad habit of hopping from place to place.</p><p>“Of course you do it perfectly on the first try,” she huffs, slumping back in her seat.</p><p>“You’re a good teacher,” Levi says. She glances at him and can tell he’s sincere. Her cheeks warm and her heart skips a beat.</p><hr/><p>She takes him first to the Great Market Hall, which is her favorite place to buy fresh herbs and fruit. Then she takes him to the imported goods store where she can find French snacks that remind her of home. And then they walk for a long time through the heart of Budapest, through tight cobblestone alleyways and broad streets filled with tourists and cars and trams, weaving through crowds and commenting on all the big city things that their own little town simply does not have. Finally, they arrive at her favorite restaurant for lunch: a noodle house, famous for their house made noodles and Chinese street food.</p><p>“Why is your favorite restaurant in Budapest a Chinese one and not a Hungarian one?” he asks her.</p><p>“It’s all just meat and potatoes anyway, right?” she says, and then remembers that he’s German. “I mean, no offense to your cuisine either or anything.”</p><p>Levi scoffs. “I wouldn’t expect any less of a superiority complex from the French.”</p><p>“Well, <em>excuse </em>me.”</p><p>Luckily for him, a waiter approaches them and directs them to a table. As she trails behind Levi, she could swear she catches a smirk on his lips.</p><hr/><p>Every time Petra visits Budapest, without a doubt, she goes to a café that overlooks the Danube and reads. She told Levi this the day before, saying that he doesn’t have to keep her company if he’d rather do other things, but here he is, sitting across from her in an armchair with a warm latte in his hands. He likes all permutations of coffee, she’s come to realize: espresso, lattes, black, and even in the form of ice cream.</p><p>The image of him with his drink, staring out the window at the river, is like a portrait. His foot isn’t tapping and his hand isn’t bouncing. He is still.</p><p>Petra smiles to herself and cracks open her book.</p><hr/><p>The book he’s reading is on Messiaen, which is not a light topic by any means, but she supposes Levi sees light reading as a waste of time. She wonders what he thinks about when he’s not preoccupied; how many worlds’ worth of knowledge he has in that head of his; what he thinks of her.</p><p>That last pondering catches her by surprise, and she buries her nose deeper into her pages.</p><hr/><p>“What are you hoping to get out of your education here?” she asks him later when they’re settled in their seats, waiting for the concert to begin. “What do you want to do when you leave?”</p><p>“I want to conduct.”</p><p>“Your church choir?”</p><p>“And other ones too. Children’s choirs, professional choirs, amateur choirs—all of them.”</p><p>“That’s ambitious,” Petra remarks, although she doesn’t expect anything less from Levi. “But if there’s any place to learn all of that, it’d be here.”</p><p>“And? What about you?”</p><p>She hesitates. “I’m…still not sure, to be honest. I just knew that I wanted to be a more well-rounded musician, and my dad wanted me to pursue my passion. So, here I am. I sound pretty young and lost, don’t I?”</p><p>She feels Levi shrug more than she sees it. “Sure. But we’re all young and lost at some point.”</p><p>“Even you?”</p><p>“I’m not young anymore, but I was lost until I came here.”</p><p>“You’re not <em>that</em> old. But yeah, I get it. Things…just make sense here, somehow.” In ways, being here is a completely different world from her home on the southern coast of France. Back home, none of her friends understand what she does. But here, with every face she sees and every corner she turns, there is music. She can breathe it in endlessly without feeling like the black sheep of the crowd.</p><p>As they sit in their contemplative silence, the lights in the concert hall dim until only the stage is lit, like a beacon. Both of them straighten up in their seats to see over the heads of the fairly tall people in front of them, and a few seconds later, six men stroll on stage, all dressed in crisp black suits. Petra’s heart races in anticipation.</p><p>It is magic from their first breath to their final chord. For the entire duration of the concert, time stops for her.</p><p>Even after the thunderous applause, the encore (by far the most chilling a cappella arrangement of <em>Blackbird </em>by the Beatles she’s ever heard), more thunderous applause and a standing ovation, she still sits in her seat, starry-eyed and feeling weak in the knees. Beside her, Levi is hunched over and madly scribbling things on his program.</p><p>“I don’t even know what to say,” she says dreamily.</p><p>“Then shut up,” he responds, his pen not stopping for a moment. She’s curious as to what he’s writing down but doesn’t look; she wouldn’t want anyone intruding on her post-concert thoughts either.</p><p>“We do need to go though, if we want to catch the last train,” she reminds him gently.</p><p>One more second, then two, and he finally straightens up and clicks his pen shut. He folds his program and slips it into his bag as she pulls on her jacket, and in silence, they follow the remainder of the crowd out of the concert hall and into the lobby. Neither of them exchange any words for the majority of the walk to the train station, but Petra’s mind is anything but quiet. She can still hear the countertenors’ voices ringing like bells; the bass’s rich deep tones; the tenor’s control; the baritones’ smiles in their singing.</p><p>The sun has gone down, but the city is still bright. The streetlamps shine and the shop signs glow, lighting the way for tourists to find the bars and late night restaurants. It’s only marginally less busy as it was during the day; Budapest is a lively city.</p><p>“What did you think of the concert?” she finally asks Levi when they’re on the train platform, waiting for their ride. When he doesn’t answer her, continues. “I mean, <em>I</em> loved it.”</p><p>“Me too,” he says. His dark eyes are sparkling, the same way they sparkled in their first conducting class together. She can’t help but beam at the idea that he loved a concert she recommended to him.</p><p>“Did you have a favorite piece?”</p><p>“No. They were all great in their own right.”</p><p>“It was a beautiful program,” she agrees. “Although I’m a bit biased towards the renaissance pieces. And the encore. <em>God</em>, that encore was good. It was so simple but so masterfully executed.” And just like that, she can’t stop talking. “Their <em>intonation</em>. Their <em>ensemble skills</em>. Their <em>balance</em>. And they make it look so easy. If only I could be half as good of a singer as them.”</p><p>“You are a very good singer,” Levi tells her.</p><p>“Okay, but you know what I mean. I personally think that vocal chamber music is the hardest form of music-making—hot take, I know, but I’ll fight you on it—and just. Ugh. I can’t.”</p><p>“You can’t what?”</p><p>“I can’t handle it. They were just <em>so good</em>.”</p><p>A low sound rumbles in Levi’s throat at the very same time the train rolls into the platform, so Petra can’t be sure, but she could’ve sworn it was a chuckle. Once the train comes to a halt, he reaches up and pulls open one of the car doors with ease (an action that always takes both of her arms and a hard tug to do) and climbs the steps.</p><p>She follows suit, unable to help feeling that despite his short stature and affinity for even shorter sentences, he is bigger than life.</p><hr/><p>The rain begins to fall in heavy sheets, water streaming across the windows, not even halfway through their ride back. From across the compartment, Levi casts her a glance of <em>I told you so</em> and she rolls her eyes.</p><p>“It’s a long walk back home from the station,” he says, and something in her glows with joy because he just called the institute <em>home</em> and she would like to think that she played a part in that.</p><p>“It’s not <em>that</em> long.”</p><p>“Fifteen minutes is long when it’s raining this hard.”</p><p>“I could sprint,” she says cheekily. “I bet I’d beat you in a race.”</p><p>Levi snorts. “You would not.”</p><p>“Nah, you’re probably right.” She follows the water trails on the window, trying to discern shapes out of them. “It’s okay. A little water never hurt anyone.”</p><p>In the quiet and dimly lit train compartment, Petra feels the exhaustion of the day set into her bones. She leans her head back against the headrest and lets her eyes close. The King’s Singers’ version of <em>Blackbird</em> is still spinning in her mind and she quietly sings to herself, remembering the image of the performers behind her eyelids.</p><p>
  <em>Blackbird singing in the dead of night / Take these broken wings and learn to fly / All your life / You were only waiting for this moment to arise</em>
</p><p>When she opens her eyes, Levi is watching her with such intensity that she stops singing immediately. His grey eyes are darker than normal and his sullen expression is unreadable to her. Does he think she’s bad? She wasn’t exactly trying to put on a performance in that moment. Her cheeks flush under his scrutiny. “You’ve heard me sing plenty of times before.”</p><p>Seemingly noticing her discomfort, he looks away, but says nothing.</p><hr/><p>Despite the crap he gave her for not preparing for the rain, he shares his umbrella with her on their walk back. Their steps are in sync with each other, and with their close proximity, she listens to his steady breathing the entire way home.</p><hr/><p>It’s a little past midnight when they finally return to their dorms. They reach her room first; his is further down the hallway, several rooms down. Petra notices that one of his shoulders is drenched whereas both of hers are dry, but she decides not to dwell on it tonight; she is too tired.</p><p>“Hey, Levi.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I know this wasn’t some big trip like the ones everyone else is on, but I still had fun. Thanks for coming with me.”</p><p>“If you could have gone anywhere this week, where would it have been?”</p><p>In her sleep-addled mind, she mentions the first place she can think of. “Amsterdam, I think? The canals, the colors, the architecture…it’s all so whimsical. I’d love to visit one day.”</p><p>He thinks about her answer for a moment, but doesn’t comment on it. “Well, go to bed. You’re tired.” She nods, and fiddles with her keyring to unlock her door. “And Petra?” She looks up at him, but just barely, because he’s hardly taller than her. “I had fun today too.”</p><p>She smiles, and maybe his mouth curves into a little half-smile of his own. It’s the last expression she sees on his face before she closes the door behind her.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Budapest is definitely a busy city, but it was gloriously quiet on Sunday mornings. Some of my fondest memories are those mornings when I'd grab an early breakfast and leisurely walk back to the train station to go home.</p><p>Your fun fact about Hungary for the day: Due to the fact that Hungarian is essentially an alien language that no foreigners learn to speak, most Hungarians are at least bilingual, either taking up German or English as their second language.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Winter - Dawn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Levi knows this feeling—he knows it and he hates it.</p><p>She is young and she is beautiful, the warm tones of her eyes and hair matching the warmth of her soul. She was a quiet little thing when they first met, like a curious cat who didn’t dare get too close, but time made her bold, and before he knew it, she occupied most of his thoughts. If asked, he wouldn’t be able to pinpoint the moment things clicked into place for him.</p><p>Actually, that’s not true—Levi knows the exact moment it happened.</p><p>She was performing her homework in solfege class—a sing-and-play that she was struggling with—and their instructor had said these words to her: “Forget the notes, Petra. They’re important, but the message is more important. This is a love song. Perform it like you’re in love.”</p><p>And she did. Her soft palette rose and her voice resonated, crisp and clear like birdsong, and the phrases swelled like there was too much feeling for them to contain. In that moment, Levi found it easy to ignore her wrong notes on the piano, enthralled by her natural musicianship and the way she can so easily interpret what is not written in the score.</p><p>She is kind and gentle, yet silly and sometimes lacking in foresight, and he hates that she is the first thing his wayward mind wanders to when unoccupied.</p><p>“Whatcha staring at?” Zoë appears behind Levi like the sneaky annoyance she is. By the time he looks away, she’s already tracked his gaze. “Ooh. What’s that about, huh?”</p><p>“Nothing,” he growls, scowling deeply. “Leave me alone. I’m busy.”</p><p>“She’s too pure for you, Levi. Look for someone just as dark and twisted as you.”</p><p>“Shut <em>up</em>.” He throws his eraser at her face, and it hits her square on the nose.</p><p>Across the room, Petra and Mike are analyzing a chorale together for solfege class. Levi ignores the fact that they didn’t ask him to join them, and that they are sitting far too close together for his comfort.</p><hr/><p>“You must <em>caress</em> the piece, Levi.”</p><p>His jaw clenches at Pyxis’s words—he doesn’t know what that <em>means</em>. The piece isn’t tangible and there is nothing to caress.</p><p>The first two months in conducting class had been a constant and steady improvement for him, but he’s hit a slump these past few weeks. Pyxis assigned him <em>The Snow</em> by Elgar, a romantic piece for female choir, piano, and two violins; stylistically, it’s quite different from the other pieces he’s conducted. There are four people sitting at the two pianos to cover all of the parts when he conducts, and all four pairs of eyes are watching him closely; something that normally doesn’t bother him when he’s not struggling.</p><p>“Again,” Pyxis commands. “From the più lento.”</p><p>Not even one measure in, and Pyxis stops him. “What’s the dynamic marking? No, don’t look at the score. You should already know.”</p><p>“It’s piano.”</p><p>“Is it easy for the sopranos to sing piano in that range?”</p><p>“No,” he says, although the answer is not obvious to him and he can only assume that it was a rhetorical question.</p><p>“Then you must support them.” Just as Levi is wondering how to conduct both quietly and with support, the timer goes off, signalling that his turn is over. “We’ll continue with this next week.”</p><p>Next week will be the third week he’s working on this piece—he’s never had to stick with one for longer than two. He pulls his score off the music stand and steps off the podium and Gunther takes his place. As he passes Petra, who is at one of the pianos, she gives him a gentle smile. He doesn’t smile back.</p><hr/><p>Two days later, when he feels like he’s made no progress, he figures he should ask her for help. He doesn’t ask Zoë because he doesn’t care to listen to her long-winded explanations, and he doesn’t ask Erwin because he’s gone most of the time, locked away in a practice room. And anyway, Petra makes sense when she talks, and Levi can at least admit that he doesn’t mind her company.</p><p>When he approaches her in the student lounge, she looks at him like she expected to see him. Her eyes are warm and her smile is large, and he swallows the lump in his throat.</p><p>“Can I sit?” he asks.</p><p>She gestures towards the empty space beside her on the couch. “Go ahead.”</p><p>It’s an old couch, brown and faded from years of use. Levi tries not to think about how it’s probably never been washed. When he sits, the too-soft cushions give in under their collected weight, and they both slide towards each other. He hopes she doesn’t notice how he momentarily freezes when their arms touch.</p><p>“Are you here to help me?” she asks, gesturing towards the music in her lap. The top right hand corner says Wagner, but Levi isn’t familiar with the piece. He isn’t familiar with most pieces, but he can read the German text, clear as day. Underneath each line is Petra’s small writing in English, translating it word for word.</p><p>“Is this for your voice lesson?”</p><p>“Yeah. I’m a bit nervous about it though. I’m not a dramatic soprano.”</p><p><em>What the fuck does that even mean,</em> he thinks to himself. Musicians have so many terms and phrases, many of which sound ridiculous and made-up.</p><p>“It looks good so far,” he says. “Except here. That word means ‘dew’, not ‘rope’.”</p><p>“Oh. That…makes much more sense,” she laughs, erasing her mistake. “Morning dew is definitely more pleasant than morning rope. Whatever that means.” After writing in the correct translation, she puts down her pencil. “So? What’s up? I can’t imagine you’re here just to hang out with me.”</p><p>He doesn’t point out that he doesn’t mind spending time with her; he’ll just never be the one to initiate it. “I’d appreciate your insight on my conducting.”</p><p>“Not that I’m not happy to help, but again, don’t you think you should ask someone else? I’m hardly the best conductor in our class.”</p><p>He shrugs. “You are good.” It’s all he’s willing to tell her.</p><p>“Thanks. Well, okay, I’m going to be honest—but please don’t be mad at me, I don’t mean it badly—” She’s fidgeting. “Your technique is really good, and you learn really quickly, but the reason why I think Pyxis gave you that piece is because your conducting is kind of…emotionless.”</p><p>Levi isn’t sure why she thinks he’d be offended at this. It is a well-known fact and conscious choice that he is not emotional.</p><p>“Which is ironic, because”—she is nervous and blabbering now—“your singing and playing is actually really poignant and touching, but I’ve noticed that you don’t really use your body to convey any of that.”</p><p>“I don’t see why I have to,” he says. “It’s about the sound, not the movement.”</p><p>“I know. Except conducting is kind of all about the movement.”</p><p>This is true, he supposes. A good conductor does more than just keep time and cue entries. “I’m not sure how to,” he frowns, “<em>caress</em> the piece.”</p><p>Petra laughs at his obvious disdain for the word, and his frown deepens. “Well, I guess one way to think about it is to loosen your wrist a little bit and not hit the beat as sharply.” When she demonstrates it for him, he has to ignore how graceful her movements are and stay focused. “Imagine your fingers moving in the wind.”</p><p>He tries to take her advice, beating a four beat pattern while consciously trying to move with more fluidity. Petra cocks her head to the side. “That’s…a little bit better? I think? Don’t make your wrist too loose, or else we’ll lose the beat.”</p><p>“I’ll work on it,” he says gruffly, putting his hands down. The back of his neck feels hot. “Thanks.”</p><p>“You’re welcome.”</p><p>“If Pyxis explained it that way, I would’ve actually understood him.”</p><p>“He doesn’t speak Levi,” she says cheekily. “Don’t worry, I can translate for you. Hey, you know what? I think you should come observe my movement class later. It could help with whatever problems you’re having.”</p><p>The words “movement class” are enough to make Levi’s brow furrow with disgust. He had purposely avoided any movement-based classes when he chose his electives; the idea of doing ridiculous and potentially childish bullshit in a room full of literal adults sounds degrading and humiliating. “No.”</p><p>“Oh, c’mon, at least give it a chance. Zoë’s in it too! She loves it.”</p><p>“That’s because she loves anything that lets her act like an moron.”</p><p>“I’m also singing in it today, if that matters.”</p><p>It does. Levi loves hearing her sing. But he can’t tell her that.</p><p>So instead he says, “I’ll think about it,” and pulls some work out of his bag. She accepts his silence and returns to translating her piece, her attention constantly flitting back and forth between her phone and her music.</p><p>He is only half-skimming his philosophy reading—he is more focused on how comfortable her body feels pressed to his side, how it feels like it belongs there.</p><hr/><p>Three hours later, Levi has to eat his words.</p><p>“So? What do you think?” Petra asks him after class, eyes shining with anticipation for his answer.</p><p>If he had to describe what the first half of the class felt like, he’d say it was yoga for hippies. In a crowded room with all of the tables pushed off to the side, they performed a series of non-locomotor motions that challenged his mind more than his body. He was tasked to imagine how sound can move and how it manifests in his body, feeling it flow or bounce or suspend or drop. It honestly felt a bit cultish, with how everyone seemed to just accept how stupid they all looked as they mirrored the instructor’s movements.</p><p>Petra took up the second half of the class. She is a singer before she is a pianist, and it was obvious in the refined sound she produced. Her voice, like birdsong, made his heart thrum. He didn’t recognize the piece she sang, but it was French; it was the first time he ever heard her sing in her mother tongue, and it’s true what they say, it’s a romantic language with soft vowels and rolled consonants—nothing like the harsh sounds of his own language.</p><p>And even though he already thought she sounded perfect, the instructor made her sound even better. She grabbed Petra’s hips to hold her still, and suddenly the phrase felt long and continuous. She shook Petra’s shoulders to release the tension she was holding there, and suddenly the high note at the peak of the piece sounded effortless instead of strained.</p><p>It was, truthfully, witchcraft and trickery.</p><p>“I hate it,” he says bluntly, because even if he were willing to tell her how in awe of the class (and her) he was, he wouldn’t know how.</p><p>Her face falls. “Oh.”</p><p>“It makes me feel like an idiot and it’s fucking genius.”</p><p>“Does that mean you’ll keep coming back?” Zoë exclaims. She smirks, as if she knows something, and Levi doesn’t like it one bit.</p><p>“It might be worth putting up with your shit for.”</p><p>Zoë pumps a fist in the air and whoops, but Petra’s reaction is more subdued. Her smile is wide, reaching all the way to her eyes. Levi feels strongly compelled to brush a stray lock of golden hair out of her face.</p><p>“I’m glad you found it helpful,” she says.</p><p>Looking at her face feels like he’s being blinded, so he turns away. “Yeah.”</p><hr/><p>A dramatic soprano, he learns later that night when he looks it up on his laptop, is a soprano whose voice is loud, rich, and full. Such a voice type was typical for Wagner’s music, who often orchestrated for up to one hundred instruments, over which the soloist had to be heard.</p><p>Petra certainly isn’t a dramatic soprano. He doesn’t know how her voice would be classified, but it’s light and flexible and clear as a bell. It’s the first peek of the sun over the horizon in the morning and the chirping of birds as they wake up.</p><p>The hours of the night continue to tick on, but as usual, he isn’t tired. Setting his laptop aside, he pulls out his book on Olivier Messaien, an eclectic French composer who was heavily inspired by birdsong. There is probably some sort of divine irony to this, Levi thinks, but he doesn’t entertain the thought too much. He only has a little over one hundred pages left, and he plans on finishing it tonight.</p><hr/><p>Like most things he tries his hand at, Levi is a gifted student. He can tell from the way his classmates look at him in the hallways and the way his teachers praise him. He is not blind to the fact that he is very good at what he does, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is years, even decades behind some of the people here. He has never once used his genius as an excuse to waste his own time, and so he works hard.</p><p>He spends his days practicing. The work for him is never-ending, even though everyone else seems to make it look so easy. They always seem to have time to relax, and still do so well in class. It’s not the same for Levi; where they take one step, he must take three.</p><p>By night, he does his written homework. He doesn’t put nearly as much effort into his papers as he does his practice, but the practice rooms aren’t accessible at all hours of the day and he needs something to keep him occupied at night as the minutes slowly tick away.</p><p>Petra watches him. He pretends not to notice—pretends it’s not a constant itch underneath his skin. Her eyes follow him keenly in conducting class; constantly flick towards him when they sing trios with Mike; linger on him for long moments when they’re working separately from each other on opposite ends of the student lounge. It always feels like she’s with him even when she’s not, and Levi realizes one night as he’s typing up a pedagogy assignment that he’s grown dependent on that. He’s come to expect her to always be there, to always praise him despite his negative reactions to it, and to always be there to offer advice when he needs it. It feels…odd, to put it lightly.</p><p>Two nights later, as he’s brushing his teeth, he realizes it’s because she’s the first constant he’s ever had in his life.</p><hr/><p>He is in Erwin’s room on this Friday evening, watching a documentary (Will Smith is in it?) and eating pizza (it’s too greasy) when Zoë barges in.</p><p>Erwin pauses the documentary. “We didn’t think you’d be coming, so we started without you. Sorry.”</p><p>Zoë, seemingly unbothered that they proceeded ahead with their plans without her, makes a beeline straight towards Levi, who frowns and moves away from her as best as he can while sitting on Erwin’s bed with his back against the wall.</p><p>“Did you know Petra is <em>in love</em> with you?!”</p><p>It is in moments like these that he laments Erwin’s trusting nature and habit to leave his room unlocked. Beside him, his friend chokes on his pizza.</p><p>“Excuse me?” Levi drawls, hoping that neither of them notice that his heart has begun racing.</p><p>“Petra. In love with you.” Zoë crawls onto the bed on all fours like some feral dog, face unnervingly close to Levi’s.</p><p>“You’re being dramatic. She’s just young and starstruck.”</p><p>“That’s not true. She’s been asked out a few times before by some pretty big-league classmates and she said no every time. She mentioned you guys went to Budapest together over the break? Did something happen then?”</p><p>“<em>No.</em> We went as friends.”</p><p>“I don’t think she’s ever done a day trip with any of her other male friends,” Erwin ponders aloud. “Maybe there’s something to be said about that.” <em>You scum,</em> Levi mentally seethes. <em>Whose side are you on?</em></p><p>“And she’s always watching you,” Zoë continues earnestly. “Have you noticed that?”</p><p>“She watches me no more than she watches anyone else,” Levi retorts, knowing fully that it’s a bald-faced lie.</p><p>“She <em>is</em> noticeably happier when you’re around,” Erwin continues to ponder.</p><p>“You two are making shit up,” Levi mutters. He wishes he could sink into the cracks in the floor and disappear from sight.</p><p>“But even if I’m wrong—and let’s be honest, when am I ever wrong—why are you denying it?” Zoë, finally calming down, backs away from him and moves to sit cross-legged on the bed, which has now become very crowded. “Don’t you like her too, Levi?” The question, like her, is sharp and bold, and his silence is all the answer she needs. “Why wouldn’t you want this?”</p><p>He shrugs and turns away from her probing stare. “I’m not here to date women.”</p><p>“You don’t think you deserve to be happy?”</p><p>“That’s not what this is about,” he snaps.</p><p>“Then what is it?”</p><p>Levi looks to Erwin for some sort of support, but is met with gentle, yet sympathetic, icy blue eyes. “You <em>have </em>been through a lot,” he says quietly.</p><p>Like a cornered animal who sees no way of victory, Levi follows his instinct: he escapes. Without so much as a huff, he climbs off of Erwin’s bed, shoves his feet into his shoes, and leaves the room. The door slams shut behind him, drawing attention from a small group of people chatting in the hallway; he beelines past them and locks himself in his room, where he paces around in restless circles.</p><p>Who cares if he’s been through a lot? Who cares if he has a past? That has nothing to do with the situation at hand. The point is that he came to start a new life, to find something that <em>means</em> something, and he did. He is only here for a year and then he will be gone, and in the grand scheme of it all, Petra means nothing.</p><p>
  <em>You don’t think you deserve to be happy?</em>
</p><p>Zoë’s question rings loudly and relentlessly in his mind. He tells himself it’s not about what he thinks he deserves, but even he finds it hard to believe himself.</p><hr/><p>That night, he dreams about broken bones and hospital visits, dirty alleyways and dirtier fistfights, a pale face and green eyes. He wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air as though he was being suffocated, sheets fisted tightly in his hands.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>We're finally sinking our teeth in! I struggled to write from Levi's point of view at first, but it ended up being so much fun. I like having Zoë and Erwin gang up on him.</p><p>Thank you to those who've given me feedback so far! Here's your fact for today: "Szia" is a casual word that can be used as both a greeting and a goodbye. So if a Hungarian person ever says "hello" to you when parting ways, that's why.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Winter, Part 2 - Happy Birthday</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>Ding.</em>
</p><p>Levi ignores his phone, which has been consistently going off for the past half hour, and continues to stare at himself in the mirror, practicing his conducting.</p><p>
  <em>Ding. Ding.</em>
</p><p>More horizontal, he notes, and tries again, his right arm making wider sweeps.</p><p>
  <em>Ding.</em>
</p><p>Finally he sighs, mouth set into a scowl, and grabs his phone to check what on earth all of the commotion is.</p><p>It is December 6. There are about twenty unread messages in the group chat titled <em>Petra’s Birthday Bash!!!</em>, which was created by Eld about a week ago. Levi taps on the conversation and skims through the messages, which are mostly about double checking which of Petra’s preferred restaurants they’re going to, and people being on their way.</p><p>There is a private message from Zoë, timestamped ten minutes ago. <em>Are you coming tonight?</em></p><p>He briefly considers ignoring it, but then decides that Petra deserves better. <em>I’m practicing.</em></p><p>Not even thirty seconds later, a response: <em>She’ll be sad.</em></p><p>Levi doesn’t know what to say to that. There are no words he could provide that wouldn’t make her sad, but the thought of seeing her also makes him freeze where he stands. His conversation with Zoë and Erwin last night shook him in ways he can’t quite comprehend, and facing Petra, especially in front of <em>them</em>, feels like he has to face something within himself.</p><p><em>Tell her to enjoy herself,</em> he texts Zoë, before turning off his phone.</p><p>When he returns to the mirror to look at himself, he notices that the rings under his eyes are darker than usual. He frowns at this, but doesn’t linger on the thought, and continues his practice in silence.</p>
<hr/><p>Her eyes are wide and timid, a stark contrast to the usual wonder and curiosity she looks at him with, and he regrets opening the door the moment he sees her.</p><p>“There’s, um, still some cake left, if you want some.” In her hands is a pastry box from the café around the corner. He can tell she’s trying to be nonchalant, but she is not nearly as successful at it as he is.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he says dully.</p><p>“Oh, okay. I guess…well, I’ll leave you to it, I suppose, you must be pretty busy—”</p><p>“Petra.” His body moves of its own accord and he curses himself, watching his hand reach out and touch her shoulder. She stops and looks at him, waiting. But he doesn’t know what to say—Levi isn’t a man of words, and the longer it takes for him to find some semblance of an apology, the more her eyes wet with angry tears.</p><p>“Happy birthday,” he finally settles on, and even he knows it’s pathetic.</p><p>She sniffs loudly, lips pursed together tightly and face scrunched into some manner of frustration. “Thanks,” she all but spits at him, pulling her shoulder out of his grasp and stalking away.</p>
<hr/><p>What was she expecting from him? An explanation? An apology? He doesn’t owe her anything. She cares too much for her own fucking good.</p><p>(But isn’t he pissed too? Isn’t he the same? If he isn’t, why is he spending all his time wishing that things didn’t turn out this way?)</p>
<hr/><p>They don’t speak to each other for an entire week.</p><p>It doesn’t go unnoticed. Erwin and Zoë keep casting them looks whenever they’re all in the same room; they’re reprimanded in solfege class about not listening to each other when singing together; Oluo loudly asks what’s going on between them before Gunther elbows him hard in the ribs. Levi desperately wishes things would go back to the way they were before, but the air between them has shifted, as if something has inexplicably changed on the night of her birthday.</p><p>Life without Petra, he has come to realize, is lonely. But then again, he has been lonely for a lot of his life.</p><p>(<em>Maybe he just clung onto the first woman who showed him such kindness. Maybe he’s the one who’s starstruck.</em>)</p><p>But it can’t be that—because Levi likes her even when she makes mistakes, and especially when she gets back up to prove herself capable. He loves (loves?) the imperfections that she never tries to hide.</p><p>He didn’t think he’d be the one to break first, but he is.</p><p>“What is it?” he snaps at her after Solfege one day. “Why are you so pissed?”</p><p>Mike, who was innocently copying some notes he had missed, stops writing mid-sentence.</p><p>Petra gapes at him as if he had asked the stupidest question, and this is when Levi discovers that she has a temper. “Why am I pissed? Oh, I don’t know Levi, maybe it’s because you said that you’d be at my birthday dinner and then you didn’t show. <em>Maybe</em> it’s because when I gave you the benefit of the doubt, you just brushed me off and didn’t give me an explanation. Or maybe it’s because, I don’t know, I expected <em>even a shred</em> of humanity from you and got <em>nothing</em>.” Her words are sharp and quick, like bullets; an indication that this has been on her mind all week, festering and ready to burst. Her eyes are fiery, determined, and so clearly hurt.</p><p>“I was busy,” he says through gritted teeth.</p><p>“Then you should’ve told me that! And you know what—if that was actually the reason,  you would’ve. But you didn’t, which means there’s something else and you’re lying to me.” Her voice is shaking. “I would’ve accepted any answer from you, Levi. I like you and respect you. But you clearly don’t feel the same about me.”</p><p><em>That’s not true,</em> he wants to say, but he bites his tongue. In the absence of a response from him, the silence hangs heavily in the air. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears.</p><p>“Um.” Mike’s voice is small. “Should I go?”</p><p>“Yes,” they both bark at him, and he hastily grabs his things and leaves the room.</p><p>It’s quiet for several minutes. Levi knows that Petra won’t speak—she’s said her piece, and she’s waiting for his. He struggles to find the right thing to say that can both honor her and protect him.</p><p>“I’m dealing with some things,” he says quietly. “I don’t know how to talk about it right now.” <em>But know that I’m sorry.</em></p><p>That answer wouldn’t have been enough for him, but somehow, it is for Petra. She moves to sit in the seat beside him and takes his hand, which he doesn’t realize until now is clenched into a tight fist. His fingers relax under her touch until they weave together with hers.</p><p>It is a soft and clearly intimate gesture. He is paralyzed—by shock? Fear?—and can only stare at their intertwined fingers. What does this mean?</p><p>“All I wanted was some honesty,” Petra whispers. “I’m sorry you’re going through some stuff.”</p><p>“It’s not your fault.” His voice is hoarse.</p><p>“I’m always here to listen.” He knows he won’t talk to her about it, but he nods anyway. Her thumb traces small circles on his skin. “You mean a lot to me.”</p><p>“Yeah. I know.” He meets her gaze, and he can see that she’s searching for something in his eyes. He wonders if she finds it.</p><p>Their faces are close. Closer than they’ve ever been. He can see every individual eyelash, and for the first time, he notices that her nose is dusted with faint freckles. Every cell in his body is screaming to just fucking kiss her but he is frozen, caught between doing something he’s never done before and continuing to do what he always does, which is nothing at all.</p><p>The moment passes both too soon and not soon enough, and Petra moves away. “I’ll see you later?” She smiles, as though her act of holding his hand didn’t send them teetering on the edge of something terrifying yet beautiful.</p><p>Unable to speak, he nods. She untangles her fingers from his and grabs her bag, leaving him to his own thoughts.</p><p>But for once, his mind is blank.</p>
<hr/><p>He keeps on looking at his hand and flexing his fingers, remembering the way her skin felt against his.</p>
<hr/><p>“Stop—oh my God, you’re going to spill it everywhere—”</p><p>The looming threat of midterms in January can’t stop the Christmas spirit of December. Levi watches as Zoë act a fool with her mulled wine while a very flustered Gunther is trying to calm her down. Beside him, Petra pulls off another piece of their shared lángos.</p><p>They’re in Budapest tonight, enjoying a Christmas market. Levi originally had no intention of coming, having never really celebrated Christmas, but Petra’s excitement changed his mind. She said that the markets here are different from back home in France, but he doesn’t think there’s anything special about them—if there’s anything that’s truly remarkable, it’s the way the festive lights dance across her face and illuminate her eyes.</p><p>He takes another sip of his mulled wine. It’s sweet and it’s making him sleepy, but there’s a chill to the air tonight, and it keeps him warm.</p><p>“I’m going to get some goulash,” Petra tells him, patting his arm to get his attention. “Do you want some?”</p><p>He raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it all just meat and potatoes?”</p><p>“Oh, shut up. It’s Christmas!”</p><p>“Goulash is not exclusive to Christmas,” he points out. But she’s already bounced off, irrationally excited about a dish that he’s never seen her go near prior to today.</p><p>On Levi’s other side, Erwin leans over. “She’s happy today.”</p><p>He shrugs. “Doesn’t seem any different than usual to me.” At their already crowded table, Zoë returns (when did she leave?) with a handful of handmade wooden Christmas ornaments.</p><p>“One for everyone,” she explains with glee, passing them out.</p><p>“It’ll be good kindling,” Levi remarks.</p><p>The others continue to talk around him, but he is content to stay out of the conversation. This is how he prefers it; low commitment, but still in the loop.</p><p>Petra returns shortly thereafter with her goulash in a bread bowl. It steams in the cold night air as she indulges in it. When she notices him watching her, she offers him a bite—and although he refuses, the gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.</p><p>Since that day, things are somehow…different.</p><p>She approaches him more often. She offers him food. And most importantly, she touches him more. She will unabashedly sit close to him on a piano bench, or touch his thigh when she laughs, or tug on his sleeve to grab his attention. Levi will admit that she’s not always the one who initiates the contact, but she certainly does most of it—and although he will never admit it, it is something he now looks forward to, even craves.</p><p>(<em>But what does it mean?</em>)</p><p>He wonders that every day. Did that moment when she took his hand in hers somehow change their relationship? Is she expecting something from him? Are they still friends, or are they…?</p><p>No. He won’t think about it. Until something is explicitly said, he will take things at face value. It is what he’s good at, after all.</p>
<hr/><p>Several hours later, in the apartment they’ve rented for the night to avoid having to take the last train home, Petra catches Levi’s gaze from across the kitchen. She’s wearing her navy blue pajamas and drying her hair on a towel, and he can see that she was en route to the room she’s sharing with Zoë before their eyes met.</p><p>She shuffles over, quietly, because the others are also getting ready for bed, if not already asleep. “Aren’t you tired?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.</p><p>“I don’t sleep much.”</p><p>“I figured. You always look sleep deprived. Is it insomnia?”</p><p>Do frequent nightmares and the constant need to keep busy count as insomnia? “I suppose so.”</p><p>She smiles. “Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Do you want me to leave?”</p><p>He hesitates. “No.”</p><p>“Okay.” She joins him on the large couch, propping her back against the armrest on the opposite end of him and pulling her knees up to her chest. They watch each other for a long time and he tries to memorize this moment: her petite figure, her damp copper hair, the way she looks at him like he’s the only person in the world.</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” she asks quietly.</p><p><em>You,</em> he wants to say, but what comes out of his mouth is: “Nothing.”</p><p>“That can’t be true. I bet you’re always thinking about something.”</p><p>“It doesn’t mean I always want to talk about it.”</p><p>Once upon a time, Petra would have been taken aback by his brashness. Now she just smiles, as if she understands, and it feels…comfortable. Levi has never met anyone who doesn’t demand an explanation from him.</p><p>“Go to sleep,” he tells her. “You’re tired.”</p><p>“Yeah, I am.” She lets out the yawn that she’s been stifling. “You’re going to be okay out here?”</p><p>“I’m always okay.”</p><p>“I don’t know about that,” she singsongs, getting off the couch and stretching. “Try to get some shuteye, okay? We’re heading out early tomorrow.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Goodnight.”</p><p>His eyes follow her until she disappears from sight, and even afterwards, they linger on the door she closes behind her. After several long minutes, he stands up to get ready for bed, heading to the room he’s sharing with Erwin to grab his toothbrush.</p><p>And when he falls asleep that night, there are no nightmares. In fact, he doesn’t dream at all.</p>
<hr/><p>“Petra, can I ask you something?”</p><p>“Sure, Oluo. What’s up?”</p><p>Levi stops mid-step before he turns the corner.</p><p>“Are you and Levi…dating?”</p><p>He holds his breath.</p><p>“W-What? No, we’re just friends! Why do you ask?”</p><p>“I don’t know, I was just wondering. You guys have been close lately.”</p><p>“No—I mean, yeah, we’re close, but it’s nothing romantic, you know? There isn’t anything between us.”</p><p><em>Liar,</em> he thinks, even as his heart sinks at her words. <em>You don’t look at someone the way you look at me and say there’s nothing there.</em></p><p>“Oh. Okay, then. I thought I was seeing things, but I guess I was wrong. Hey, how about you and Mike?”</p><p>“What’s with these questions? Are you just desperate to see me with someone?”</p><p>As their voices fade away, Levi emerges to watch them disappear down the stairs. There could be several reasons why Petra said what she said, but he can’t shake the uneasiness at the fact that the reason could be because it’s true.</p>
<hr/><p>The rest of the semester passes without much incident, and before he knows it, people are flying home for Christmas.</p><p>Levi, of course, is staying put. “You should come back and hang out with us!” Zoë had said, gesticulating towards herself and Erwin, to which Levi scoffed. “I see enough of you two already.”</p><p>Petra had shown a modicum of concern upon discovering this news, her lips curving into a small frown and brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want to see your family for Christmas?”</p><p>“I don’t have family,” he told her. It was an easy fact for him, something he had lived with for most of his life, but it clearly struck her differently, because she took his hand and squeezed it. He didn’t need the comfort, but it did feel nice.</p><p>“You won’t be lonely?” she had asked. He shrugged.</p><p>And eventually even she is gone. In her absence, the spaces he occupies feel larger than his singing could fill, the silence louder than any music he could make.</p>
<hr/><p>The days are monotonous. Easy.</p><p>Mornings are spent on solfege and piano. Afternoons are spent on conducting and voice. Evenings are spent cleaning and studying for the written exams. Even as the snow falls in gentle flakes to the ground and the little markets in the town square grow more festive, reminding Levi that this is a time for family and loved ones, he continues to ignore what society has set for him does what he does best: work.</p><p>His nightmares are back, too.</p><p>Zoë sends him memes at least once a day (all of which he ignores), and Petra posts photos of her meeting up with friends and spending time with her father. Erwin is tagged in pictures by his overbearing family (his words, not Levi’s), but makes no posts himself.</p><p>Christmas Eve rolls around. And then Christmas Day. It is warm in his room when he wakes up, although he feels a slight chill in his bones. <em>At least you have a roof over your head,</em> he thinks to himself, pulling on a sweater. He doesn’t need to remember the several winter seasons when he had nowhere to sleep but in his tiny car. Having a bed is gift enough for him.</p><p>The day passes like any other. And then, ten minutes before midnight, his phone begins to buzz.</p><p>Levi looks at the displayed name. Breathes. Counts to three, and then answers. “Hi.”</p><p>“Oh, thank God you picked up! I was worried you wouldn’t.” Petra’s voice is slightly distorted, not quite as lovely as it is when she’s in person, but he hasn’t heard it in nearly a week, and the tightness that he’s been feeling in his chest finally loosens.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I pick up?”</p><p>“That’s true, I guess. I’m sorry it’s so late—my dad is big on the celebrations, even though it’s just the two of us. How are you? How was your Christmas?”</p><p>“It was fine,” he replies—not quite a lie, but not quite true either.</p><p>“I think you need to have higher expectations for this day,” she says. He can hear the frown in her voice.</p><p>“It’s just Christmas. It’s no more a day than any other.”</p><p>“But it’s also your birthday, isn’t it?”</p><p>His fingers, which had been spinning a pen up until this point, stop. It falls and clatters onto his desk, rolling before it comes to a stop just before falling to the floor. “Who told you that?”</p><p>“Zoë. But I wish it would’ve been you.”</p><p>Even though she can’t see him, he shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”</p><p>“You should give yourself more credit.”</p><p>“I don’t need to.”</p><p>“But you deserve it!”</p><p>“One of my best friends died on this day.”</p><p>Levi doesn’t know what compelled him to say this, and as the silence stretches on between them, he wishes he didn’t. Because there it is, he thinks, this part of him that inherently drives people away. He’s kept people at arm’s distance for so long now that it’s just habit—but he doesn’t know if he actually wants it anymore. He just knows that he doesn’t want Petra to be afraid of him.</p><p>“I didn’t know,” she finally says. “I’m so sorry.” Another silence. “What was his name?”</p><p>“Her name,” Levi corrects, swallowing the lump in his throat, “was Isabel.”</p><p>He hasn’t so much as uttered that name in years.</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” she says again. “Was it…a long time ago?”</p><p>“Nine years ago today.” Because despite the fact that he doesn’t talk about it, despite the fact that her death is what drove him and Furlan apart, he still keeps count. Because if he doesn’t, it feels like she’ll truly be gone forever.</p><p>“What can I do?” Petra asks. Her voice is thin and wary.</p><p>“Nothing,” he replies. “Dead is dead.”</p><p>“No, I mean—what can I do to make you feel better?”</p><p>There is nothing that can erase the pain of loss. Levi knows this, lived it—<em>lives</em> it. But if there is anything that could ease it somehow, it’d be—</p><p>“Sing for me.” And then he adds: “Please.”</p><p>Her voice is always so expressive, being the vocalist that she is. Her gentle smile is apparent when she says, “Okay.”</p><p>Levi isn’t sure why she chooses this song, but it brings him back immediately to two months prior, on his first visit to Budapest. He closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, pressing his phone harder against his ear to discern the nuances of Petra’s voice through the phone lines, miles and miles away. He remembers the empty train compartment, the loud rain against the window, and the way her beauty stunned him in the dim lighting when she closed her eyes and began to sing.</p><p>
  <em>Blackbird singing in the dead of night / Take these broken wings and learn to fly / All your life / You were only waiting for this moment to arise</em>
</p><p>The curve of her collarbone peeking out over the neckline of her shirt. Her hands relaxed and resting in her lap. Her honey-spun hair tucked behind her ears, showing off her tiny gemstone earrings.</p><p>
  <em>Blackbird singing in the dead of night / Take these sunken eyes and learn to see / All your life / You were only waiting for this moment to be free</em>
</p><p>He takes a measured breath and exhales, slowly and evenly.</p><p>
  <em>You were only waiting for this moment to be free.</em>
</p>
<hr/><p>He meets her at the train station one week later.</p><p>He spots her first, hopping off the train several cars down from where he’s standing, a small suitcase in tow. She’s wearing her signature blue jacket and her hair is tied back in a loose ponytail.</p><p>When she catches sight of him, she waves enthusiastically, which prompts him to shove his fists deeper into his coat pockets. As she hurries to meet him, he has to remind himself not to run towards her.</p><p>The first thing she does is drop her suitcase and leap at him with a hug. This catches Levi off guard; despite everything, she has never <em>hugged</em> him before. The arms around his neck are jarring. He can feel her hair pressed against his cheek.</p><p>“I’m not letting go until you hug me back,” she says. Stiffly, he wraps a single arm around her waist. “Good enough, I guess.” When she finally releases him, she is beaming and her cheeks are flushed from the cold air. “Look at all of this snow!”</p><p>He glances down at “all of this snow”, noting that it can’t be more than five centimeters. “Does it snow in Nice?”</p><p>“Rarely. How about in Berlin?”</p><p>“Yeah. This is nothing.”</p><p>“You’re lucky,” Petra sighs. “I love the snow. It’s so romantic.”</p><p>He leans down to grab the handle of her suitcase off the ground. “Well, romantic or not, you’re underdressed. Let’s go.”</p><p>He pulls her suitcase for her and listens to her talk, all the way home.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I forgot to mention this the first time the song came up, but I highly recommend you give a listen to The King Singers' arrangement of Blackbird! It is honestly gorgeous.</p><p>Fun fact: Just a little sprinkle of snow can severely delay Hungarian trains. I found this particularly amusing, since I'm from Canada.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Spring - The Cataclysm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Petra, you’re rushing.”</p>
<p>Levi’s remark silences both her and Mike mid-phrase, and she clears her throat. “Sorry. Let’s try again.” Three lines in, and—</p>
<p>“Still rushing.”</p>
<p>She smiles at him, tight-lipped. “<em>Sorry.</em>”</p>
<p>“Might I suggest,” Mike says to Levi, “that you stop looking at her like that?”</p>
<p>“Like what?”</p>
<p>Petra gestures at his entire face. “Like <em>that</em>.”</p>
<p>“I’m looking at you like ‘this’ because you’re rushing.”</p>
<p>She huffs, finally having had enough. “Let’s take a break. I can’t concentrate.” The three of them break from their standing circular formation and drop their scores on the small table in the middle of the practice room. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and mindlessly scrolls through social media.</p>
<p>Ever since midterms ended and marks have been returned, Levi has been more outspoken. Petra has an inkling that this is naturally who he is once he gains his footing, and she doesn’t mind so much because it’s true: she could hear that she was rushing—she just couldn’t stop herself because of the sheer intensity he was watching her with.</p>
<p>Even if there isn’t a name for it, things have changed a lot between them in the last few months.</p>
<p>There is no doubt in her now, how attracted she is to Levi. Even with his foul expressions and clipped sentences, she’s drawn to him like a moth to a flame, and she knows that to some degree, he feels the same, even if he won’t admit it.</p>
<p>But <em>God</em>, does she want him to admit it.</p>
<p>She had made her move a long time ago, on the day when she took his hand in hers. She still remembers how cold he was—how hesitantly his fingers intertwined with hers. They’ve been in limbo ever since, dancing around this idea of <em>maybe</em>, but he had said that he was dealing with some things. Petra took that as sign enough that he wasn’t looking for a relationship.</p>
<p>Which really sucks, because she wants it badly.</p>
<p>She sighs, and shoves her phone back into her pocket. Maybe she should take a page out of his book and focus more on her studies and less on her feelings.</p>
<p>“Okay, I’m good. Let’s try again.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Am I the only one who’s bothered by the fact that he calls them <em>lab rats</em>?”</p>
<p>“So? I don’t call them that to their faces.”</p>
<p>Zoë, Levi thinks, is far too entertained by Petra’s obvious horror at the way he talks about their lab choir.</p>
<p>As part of their advanced conducting class, each of them are allotted twenty minutes a week to work with this choir, which consists of the students in the lower level conducting classes. What it is supposed to be is a masterclass where everyone in attendance has something to learn; how it manifests in practice is what feels like Pyxis critiquing you in front of fifty of your peers.</p>
<p>“Okay, but—” Petra’s voice quiets as some remaining students trickle out of the main concert hall, where class had just ended. “You really need to work on how you talk to the choir. Barking orders at people doesn’t make them want to sing for you.”</p>
<p>“It’s not my fault the sopranos were consistently flat.”</p>
<p>“Well, not to brag, but my intonation is pretty good and even I was struggling because I didn’t feel very supported by your glaring.”</p>
<p>“The basses were dragging,” Erwin points out, “and you didn’t yell at us.”</p>
<p>“And half of the alto section kept on missing all the accidentals,” Zoë chimes in.</p>
<p>“See?” Petra exclaims. “It’s not just the sopranos! What do you have against us?”</p>
<p>Levi has to admit, he probably needs to work on his rehearsal technique. That’s mostly what Pyxis gives him shit for during his lab choir time. If he’s not telling Levi how to scaffold something for the choir, then he’s telling him he needs to smile more and welcome them with his conducting. He isn’t sure if Pyxis has noticed, but Levi isn’t a very welcoming guy.</p>
<p>Just when he thinks he’s getting the hang of his technique and expression, he’s hit with a whole new facet of being a conductor that he hadn’t thought about.</p>
<p>The conversation moves on without him, and Petra and Zoë are giving Erwin feedback on his conducting. Levi exhales in relief; now he won’t have to explain that the reason why he was zoning in on the sopranos was because he can’t stop listening to Petra sing.</p>
<hr/>
<p>She keeps on thinking about Isabel.</p>
<p>She can’t get the conversation she had with Levi out of her head. She is curious, so curious about his life before she met him, but she also thinks that it might be too painful to bear. Zoë and Erwin probably know, she thinks, but it wouldn’t be right to hear it from them. Even though she wants to know, she only wants to hear it coming from Levi.</p>
<p>Neither of them mention the subject after that one night, but Petra likes to think that he’s a little more open to her now, whether it’s in how their conversations flow a bit smoother, or in the half-smiles he gives her when no one else is around.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Erwin, stop pushing me—”</p>
<p>“That’s the whole point. If I don’t push, I don’t win.”</p>
<p>“Hey, stop—stop!”</p>
<p>Levi’s frown becomes deeper and deeper until he finally sighs and closes his book. He turns around in his desk to see Zoë and Erwin sitting on his bed, messing up his sheets and bickering at Zoë’s brand new Nintendo like insufferable children. “If you two are going to make a racket, would you kindly fuck off out of my room?”</p>
<p>They glance at Levi, then at each other. Erwin clears his throat and straightens up from his hunched position. “Would you like to play?”</p>
<p>“That wasn’t what I asked.”</p>
<p>After another moment of waiting, the pair accede to the fact that he doesn’t want to join in on their childish fun. Zoë turns off the console, and the incessant beeping finally stops, bringing upon Levi’s ears joyous silence.</p>
<p>The two of them, of course, didn’t come into his room just to ignore him and play video games. He knows it, and they know he knows it—so he might as will rip off the bandage.</p>
<p>“I told Petra about Isabel.”</p>
<p>The silence that follows is that of shock.</p>
<p>“I figured something had happened between you two, but I didn’t think it would’ve been that,” Zoë says, uncharacteristically bewildered.</p>
<p>“How did she respond?” Erwin asks.</p>
<p>“She just accepted it. Didn’t really ask for details.”</p>
<p>“Hm.” Zoë taps her own knee, deep in thought. “How do you feel about that?”</p>
<p>“What, is this therapy or something?” They both stare at him, waiting expectantly. “I feel fine about it. It was fine.” In truth, he feels more than fine—he feels liberated. Petra is the first person he’s ever told about Isabel, and it feels like the weight he bears is not quite so heavy anymore. “Zoë.”</p>
<p>“Hm?”</p>
<p>“What did you mean about me not wanting to be happy?”</p>
<p>“Well, I mean.” She glances at Erwin, and then her gaze returns to Levi. “Kids like us went through that phase, you know? We felt unwanted because we either had parents who couldn’t take care of us, or no parents at all. But you, Isabel and Furlan left before you guys had to, and…”</p>
<p>“Had a harder time than us, who had stayed,” Erwin finishes for her.</p>
<p>Levi scoffs. “That group home was a shithole and you guys know it.”</p>
<p>“But we learned the skills we needed there to get by,” Zoë says. “We got jobs. Worked hard. Saved up for <em>years</em> just to come here and finally do what we want to do.”</p>
<p>“And we were on the wrong side of the tracks,” Levi drawls sardonically. He can feel his jaw tightening. “I get it. Our one wrong decision lead us down that path—it’s what made me homeless, it’s what made Isabel overdose—”</p>
<p>“Listen to yourself, Levi.” He glares at Erwin for interrupting him, and glares even harder at how calm he is, compared to how tormented he feels inside. “That’s what Zoë meant. It was just one decision—none of us thought that those things would happen. It’s no one’s fault, and yet for some reason, you put the blame on yourself.”</p>
<p>He grinds his teeth together. If he’s not to blame, who is? He’s the one who wanted to leave. He’s the one Isabel and Furlan followed.</p>
<p>“It’s not your fault she’s gone,” Zoë says quietly.</p>
<p>“I was there that night,” he whispers, remembering waking up the next morning, realizing that he was breathing and she was not. “She listened to me and did every single thing I did. Furlan had gone off to negotiate a deal, and I wanted to get high. I can’t even fucking remember the last hours we spent together.” He drops his head into his hands. This is the first time he’s ever recounted that experience aloud, and it’s enough to make him shake. He hears shuffling and feels a hand on his shoulder, but he doesn’t know whose it is.</p>
<p>“Do you think that if you let yourself get close with Petra, she’ll somehow get hurt? Or that because you couldn’t save Isabel, now you don’t deserve to be happy?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he says.</p>
<p>“You told Petra about her and nothing bad happened. That has to count for something.”</p>
<p>Maybe it does, Levi thinks. But does it count for enough? All he knows is that Isabel’s death haunts him, and Petra makes him feel more alive than he has in years. These are two truths that he isn’t sure he can reconcile.</p>
<p>“It’s not simple,” Erwin says. “Life isn’t clean. It’s not like Zoë and I are all fixed up now—we have our days too. Joy and pain can and should coexist. It’s fundamental for the human experience.”</p>
<p>Levi lifts his head; it’s Erwin’s hand on his shoulder. His friends give him small and understanding smiles—he wonders if Isabel would have understood too.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Petra takes every chance she can to listen to him practice.</p>
<p>While it’s generally common courtesy to leave a musician alone in their practice room, Petra wouldn’t call Levi the typical musician. He’s ten minutes into practicing the same eight measures of his Bartók piece when the piano finally quiets, and she looks up from her analysis essay.</p>
<p>“Something not working?” she asks, because she won’t lie through her teeth and tell him he’s doing a great job when he obviously isn’t improving.</p>
<p>“Nothing is working,” he says, akin to a child throwing a fit.</p>
<p>Petra moves to look at Levi’s music over his shoulder, probably a little closer to him than she should be. Her eyes scan the page until she finds the phrase that he’s been butchering. “I mean, not that I’m that great of a pianist…” She straightens up and phantom plays the notes on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tense underneath her fingers in the process. “Maybe try this fingering?” Bending over again, she grabs the pencil that’s sitting on top of the piano and scribbles down some numbers different from what’s already written.</p>
<p>He tries her suggestion as she plays with him on his shoulders. Even though his tempo is slightly slower than before, he still makes a mistake. He takes a deep breath, and sighs.</p>
<p>“You’re distracting me.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” Her fingers still, but remain on his shoulders.</p>
<p>(She knows she shouldn’t, but there’s a part of her that wonders just how much she can toe the line, just what would happen if she continuously pushes a little more every day—)</p>
<p>“Petra. Stop touching me.” His voice is terse. Irritated, even?</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she mumbles, and retreats.</p>
<p>That’s what she gets, she supposes.</p>
<p>But five minutes later, that phrase is no longer a difficulty for him, and when they wrap up their work for the afternoon and he asks if she’d like to have dinner with him, he doesn’t sound irritated anymore. Petra decides that maybe this is for the better—that if he wants something to happen, he will probably make it happen. That she should stop pursuing him before she ruins this friendship.</p>
<p>Yes, she thinks, this is for the best.</p>
<hr/>
<p>But then it’s his turn.</p>
<p>“Like this.” He’s standing behind her with each of his hands on her wrists. “One, two, three-cue, four-cue, one.” He’s moving her arms independently of each other—something he’s very good at but she struggles with, and was embarrassingly confused when Pyxis was demonstrating for her at what felt like lightning speed.</p>
<p>“Um,” she swallows, realizing that she was focusing on how his body felt behind her in lieu of the conducting he was helping her with. “Could you do that again?”</p>
<p>“One, two”—his breath is warm on her ear—“three-cue, four-cue”—his cheek is pressed against her hair—“one.”</p>
<p>She shakes her head, but her mind doesn’t clear. “I’m not getting it, sorry.” When he finally backs away from her, she breathes easier. “I don’t think my head is in it right now.”</p>
<p>“Clearly not.”</p>
<p>Petra knows her face is flushed, but she turns to look at him anyway. His eyes are half-lidded and stormy. She wonders if he feels just as dizzy as her.</p>
<p>“Petra,” he says, voice low. “Don’t you think we should stop playing games?”</p>
<p>“Games?”</p>
<p>“Don’t play dumb with me.” He takes a step towards her, and she takes a corresponding step back. This continues for three more steps until her back hits the wall, and Levi closes the distance between them, his forearms resting against the wall on either side of her head. Her eyes are wide and her heart is pounding in her ears. “You want me, don’t you?” Even though she’s shorter than him, she’s never felt that he was particularly tall or dominating until this very moment.</p>
<p><em>You moron, was that not obvious?</em> But all she can manage is a little nod.</p>
<p>“Then stop playing,” he growls, “and kiss me.”</p>
<p>She doesn’t need to be told twice.</p>
<p>Petra grabs his face with both of her hands and pulls him in. Their mouths press together, not gracefully, the first contact making them both inhale deeply through their noses, like an expression of relief, of <em>finally</em>, of <em>this is so wonderful</em> and<em> why did we wait this long?</em></p>
<p>The kiss is fierce, like nothing Petra has ever experienced before—Levi is bold and assertive and rough around the edges, and it’s obvious in the way he grabs her hips and pulls her close and the way he bites her lip. She gasps at the feeling of his teeth scraping her skin—pain? Pleasure? She doesn’t know—and reaches back to press her hands against the wall for support. Meanwhile, his hands run up her sides to cradle her jaw.</p>
<p>When they finally break apart, panting, there is something in his shrouded eyes that is undeniably masculine, yet so incredibly soft. She forgets sometimes that he’s lived and experienced, unlike the boys she’s kissed in the past, but she certainly doesn’t forget that now.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t trying to play games,” she gasps, breathless. “I genuinely thought you didn’t want this.”</p>
<p>He nuzzles his nose against hers. “I did, and then I didn’t. And then I did. It’s complicated.” His thumbs stroke her cheeks. “But I’ve always wanted you.”</p>
<p>She leans up to kiss him again, this time their lips moving slowly and languidly against each other. Petra relishes how easy it is—it’s as if this moment was inevitable. It’s as if from the day they met, they were always headed down this path, always meant to find each other.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Spring, Part 2 - Doubt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You’re floating away! You’re floating! You must not lose yourself.”</p>
<p>Petra and Zoë try very hard to contain their laughter as Levi sings in their movement class—more so not to disrupt the class than to hide from Levi that they think this is hilarious, because he’s already noticed their mirth and is glaring daggers at them.</p>
<p>As he sings again and unconsciously shifts his weight between the soles of his feet and his toes, their instructor holds him firm by the shoulders and pushes him down. As a result, his feet remain flat on the floor, but he continues to sway—and then his voice abruptly stops, a word half-formed on his lips, when she smacks him on the backside. “You must feel it <em>here</em>!”</p>
<p>At this point, there is no hope in containing themselves, and Petra and Zoë dissolve into a puddle of giggles.</p>
<p>“She smacked his ass,” Petra whispers.</p>
<p>“She totally smacked his ass!”</p>
<p>Levi is practically seething at the end of class when they approach him. “You’re so blessed,” Zoë tells him. “Petra and I have taken this class for <em>years</em> and never got that kind of attention.”</p>
<p>“That was not teaching,” he hisses, “that was harassment.”</p>
<p>“She’s an old lady and was swept up in the moment! It’s not her fault you don’t have the fundamentals.”</p>
<p>“<em>Harassment.</em>”</p>
<hr/>
<p>She watches him from where she lays on his bed, head tilted backwards. In her eyes is an upside-down view of Levi sitting at his desk, reading.</p>
<p>“Why do you always have books on French composers?”</p>
<p>“Because we only learn in detail about Hungarian composers and I want to know more,” he says easily, flipping a page.</p>
<p>“There’s so much rich history with German and Austrian composers though,” she points out. “That’s arguably where the core of Western European music history lives.”</p>
<p>He shrugs again, dismissing her (very valid, she thinks) point.</p>
<p>Petra has grown very familiar and comfortable with Levi’s room. It is sparsely decorated and impeccably clean; when she first saw it, she wondered if anyone lived in it at all. Now they spend a lot of time here, because it’s quiet and private and Levi seems most comfortable in his own space.</p>
<p>Are they a couple now? Maybe? Technically? They haven’t explicitly spoken about it, but she doesn’t get the impression that Levi is the kind of person to see multiple people at once.</p>
<p>“Why aren’t we telling the others about us again?”</p>
<p>Levi flips another page. What an absurdly fast reader. “Because it’s none of their business.”</p>
<p>“But I don’t want to pretend that we’re just friends,” she pouts. “I want to be able to hold your hand and kiss you in public.”</p>
<p>He puts down his book and stands from his chair, crossing the space that separates them in a few easy steps. Petra’s pulse races as he gets on his bed on all fours, hovering over her, his silky hair tickling her cheeks.</p>
<p>“And I,” he kisses her forehead, “want to do all of that,” pulls her hands above her head and weaves their fingers together, “and more,” slants his mouth against the curve of her neck, “in private.”</p>
<p>He has a need for control, Petra thinks hazily, tilting her head to allow him better access. The thought disappears quickly though, when she feels his teeth scrape across her collarbone, sending a ball of heat flying southwards and settling deep in her belly.</p>
<p>They’ve been dancing around this for weeks—him pushing, him teasing, her letting him. She wants the “more” that he implied, but he always stops just before things get too heavy, and she’s just about at her wit’s end because there’s only so much she can take and let’s face it, Levi is<em> hot</em>.</p>
<p>Losing most of her rational thought, Petra wraps her legs around his waist and pulls him down, moaning quietly at the friction it causes. He groans into her neck, hips bucking slightly against her.</p>
<p>He’s hard. Very hard.</p>
<p>She takes this as a positive sign and pulls her hands free of his grasp, reaching down to grab the hem of his shirt and pull it off. It’s only when it reaches his shoulders and he doesn’t move to let her strip it off him that she stops.</p>
<p>“Levi?” she cautions.</p>
<p>He looks down at her with half-lidded, wanting eyes (<em>God, she could drown in them</em>), and then straightens up, pulling his shirt back down. She barely catches a glimpse of his flat, toned stomach.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to baby me,” she says, rubbing his thighs with her hands, trying to coax a reaction out of him. “I’m not a child. I want this. I’m ready.”</p>
<p>“That’s not—” He clears his throat and looks away, uncomfortable. “I know you are. You’ve obviously done this before. But I…”</p>
<p>She has to consciously shut her gaping mouth. “You mean you’ve never…?”</p>
<p>“No.” He sounds, dare she say, embarrassed.</p>
<p>“That’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just—” She wiggles until he gives her enough room to slip out from underneath him and sit cross-legged on his bed. “You didn’t give me that impression, that’s all.” But that’s the essence of Levi, isn’t it? He’s responsive and intuitive, a quick learner, and fairly good at hiding what he doesn’t know.</p>
<p>He shrugs. “Well, I haven’t. So.” He won’t look at her.</p>
<p>“Hey.” She reaches out and touches his face, turning his head until their eyes meet. “That’s okay. I can wait. I like all of you, not just…” Her eyes trail down to his obvious erection, “…that part of you. But there’s only so much I can take, so maybe don’t tease me so much if you’re not ready to go further?”</p>
<p>“But I can tease you all I want when I am?”</p>
<p>Petra’s face heats up, but she can’t help but laugh. “Yes. Yes you can.”</p>
<p>He smiles and gently bops her on the nose, causing her to scrunch up her face. “Okay.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>There is something nice, something exciting, something so tantalizingly delicious about sneaking around. They’re discussing the student recital at their favorite café (a fond location for Levi, because this is where he first met Petra), sitting across from Zoë and Erwin. Levi is slowly enjoying his cappuccino, and beside him, Petra is digging into her profiterole. Out of their friends’ line of sight, their feet are pressed against each other.</p>
<p>“Sorry, Petra,” Zoë sighs. “I really wish I could, but I need to focus on my thesis.”</p>
<p>“What? You’ve always been my accompanist! What am I going to do without you?” Petra is hardly understandable through her mouthful of pastry. Normally Levi would find this gross, but she’s just so <em>cute</em>—how is she always so fucking cute? “Erwin? Can you accompany me?”</p>
<p>“I have my thesis too,” Erwin says, taking a long drink of his coffee. “And I’m already accompanying Mike.”</p>
<p>Petra slumps down onto the table, resting her face in her palm. “Maybe I just won’t perform this year. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”</p>
<p>The two master’s students glance at each other, and then at Levi. He’s beginning to hate the way they look at each other, as if they’re constantly plotting something against him. “Levi could accompany you!” Zoë exclaims. “I mean, he’s not as good as me or Erwin, but he’s still pretty good. Right, Levi?”</p>
<p>“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”</p>
<p>“Oh, could you please?” Petra looks at him with pleading eyes. “You’ve only been seriously learning since September and you’re as good as me!”</p>
<p>“You’re not very good at the piano,” he points out. Petra pouts. He ignores the desire to kiss her, and sighs. “Fine.” As if he doesn’t have enough on his plate already.</p>
<p>“Yay! Thank you!” She gives him a happy side-hug around his shoulders, and he purposely looks away so Zoë and Erwin can’t read his face.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The second semester is in full swing now, and everyone has found their rhythm. The atmosphere is usually more serious in these months, because the end of the year is the culmination of many things. On top of final exams, there are also studio recitals, the student recital, advanced conducting recital, and final concert—and amidst all of this chaos, some students like to perform their own recitals as well. It’s not surprising, given that this is a music school, but Petra does think that some people are quite intense.</p>
<p>So it’s only natural, of course, that Levi fits right in.</p>
<p>He has really blossomed since arriving last autumn. Petra watches him practice, perform, and soak up feedback like a sponge. He’s serious and determined, candid and blunt, and he makes every day even more invigorating than it already is.</p>
<p>It was impossible, she thinks as she watches him conduct the lab choir with those magnetic eyes, not to fall for him.</p>
<p>“Tenors, I know your line is athletic, but don’t lose the momentum.” Levi sings the tenor part using perfect solfa, demonstrating the direction that he wants the section to sing with. “And sopranos…” He turns to address them, but he only looks at Petra. “Good job. Just remember to keep it light here; you’re not the melody.” Whispers erupt around her within her section, because <em>he didn’t yell at us</em> and <em>was that almost a compliment?</em></p>
<p>Petra beams at him. Showing no sign of acknowledgement, he raises his arms to address the entire choir. “Let’s go again from measure eighteen.”</p>
<p>Although he’s late to the game, he’s caught up and is even better than some of their classmates at this point. She can’t help but think that this was what he was always meant to do. Levi is a leader, and despite his prickly personality, people follow him without question.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Some aspects of life, he thinks, he doesn’t mind being messy.</p>
<p>He doesn’t mind when Petra straddles his lap and leaves wet kisses on his ear. He doesn’t mind when she threads her fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes when their mouths connect. He doesn’t mind when she helps him pull off her shirt and tosses it to the floor.</p>
<p>“Levi,” she gasps when he kisses her chest, dragging his fingernails up her back and eliciting a shudder. His fingers eventually meet the clasp of her bra. “Levi, are you sure?” This is the furthest they’ve ever gone.</p>
<p>And although every part of him is begging <em>yes, fuck, yes</em>; is itching to undo her bra to see and touch and taste more of her; is dying to know what makes her pant and squirm and moan—he stops anyway to think.</p>
<p>There’s still some part of him that thinks that this is too good to be true, that eventually something will happen, that one day he will wake up and she will not. He knows it’s an irrational fear, but it’s a fear nonetheless. Petra, sensing the shift in his demeanor, smooths down his hair with a gentle touch.</p>
<p>“How did you know when you were ready?” he asks, looking up at her.</p>
<p>“Um.” She hesitates. “I didn’t, really. I was young and dumb. I don’t know. It wasn’t great.” Levi waits for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. “Sorry, that probably wasn’t helpful. But I don’t want to push you into anything, you know?” Her hands come down to briefly caress his face, before resting on his shoulders. “We don’t ever have to have sex if you don’t want to.” He cocks an eyebrow. “Okay, maybe not <em>never</em>, but…you get what I mean.” She smiles, and Levi can’t help but smile back, comforted by her patience and understanding.</p>
<p>Emotions are by far the messiest thing of all, but Petra makes them seem so easy and so beautiful.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Hasn’t he gotten better recently?” Zoë whispers to Petra one day in conducting class while Levi’s on the podium.</p>
<p>“He’s always been getting better,” Petra whispers back.</p>
<p>“I know, but I mean…he’s more than just technique now. Isn’t he way more emotive?”</p>
<p>“Is he?” Petra watches Levi conduct a slowly growing crescendo. Their classmates at the pianos play exactly what he’s showing with the controlled sweeps of his arms, reaching higher and higher until he arrives at the peak of the phrase. His movements cause his hair to fall into his eyes but he ignores it, pushing through until it dies down again to a mezzo piano.</p>
<p>There’s no doubt that Levi’s become more emotive, although this change coincides with when they got together, so she tries to throw Zoë off the scent trail. “I think he’s just finally understanding what Pyxis has been trying to get at for months.”</p>
<p>Petra’s performance of doubt causes Zoë to second guess herself. “Huh. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m just imagining things.”</p>
<p>Petra quietly sighs in relief. Zoë is intuitive and talkative—if she finds out the truth, there is no hope in keeping it a secret anymore. But then again, with the way Levi has been changing, imperceptible to even himself, she doesn’t think it’ll be a secret for much longer.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It’s a quiet night of cuddling, with Petra laying on his chest and his fingers running idly through her hair, when he sits up. “I’m going to go run through your piece a few more times.” She has a voice lesson in the morning, and he’ll be accompanying her in class for the first time in preparation for the student recital. This fact has been running circles in his head all day, making him irritable and restless.</p>
<p>Petra follows suit, sitting up and stretching. “But the practice rooms close in half an hour.”</p>
<p>“That’s plenty of time for a five minute song.”</p>
<p>“Levi, you’ve already practiced it a bunch. And we practiced it together a bunch. There’s no point in doing more until we get some feedback tomorrow.” She gently tugs on his arm. “C’mon. Cuddle with me.”</p>
<p>He swings his legs over the edge of the bed and straightens out his shirt. “I’ll be back later.” Even though he’s not looking, he knows she’s watching him as he goes around his room, pulling on a cardigan and grabbing his music.</p>
<p>“Why,” she says, voice measured and careful, “do you carry so much shame in yourself?”</p>
<p>It’s a big question. A heavy question. One that Levi isn’t sure he knows how to articulate.</p>
<p>Is it really about shame, or is it about trying to move past it?</p>
<p>Levi doesn’t answer Petra or so much as look at her when he leaves his room and shuts the door behind him.</p>
<hr/>
<p>There is still a touch of sunlight left in the sky when he returns half an hour later, after what he will admit was an unproductive practice session. Petra is still in his bed, but she’s gotten comfortable and wrapped herself up in his blanket. Her phone is in her hand, but the screen is off and her eyes are closed.</p>
<p>She shifts and rolls over at the sound of him setting down his things. When he looks at her, she’s watching him with sad, sleepy eyes. The silence between them is thick.</p>
<p>They don’t exchange any words as he toes of his shoes, places them in their designated spot by the door, and gets under the blanket with her, chest pressing against her back. She’s warm.</p>
<p>Levi’s pride makes it hard for him to apologize, but he knows he was unkind to her earlier. Draping an arm over her side and pulling her a bit closer, he presses a kiss to her hair and hopes she understands.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A tribute to my movement professor who full on smacked my ass in class in front of all my classmates.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Spring, Part 2.5 - Interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The spring break, much like the autumn break, leaves the halls relatively quiet. Petra enjoys the more peaceful days with Levi while most of their friends are off on their travels, but by Tuesday, she’s already feeling antsy.</p>
<p>“Levi,” she says as they’re eating sandwiches on the patio of their café. “Let’s go to Lake Balaton.”</p>
<p>His gaze, which until now has been fixated on some pigeons doing some strange mating dance, returns to her. “Lake what?”</p>
<p>“Balaton. It’s big and blue and beautiful and stretches so far it practically looks like the ocean. It’s only a two hour drive away—we could rent car, stay there for a few days, and get back before classes start again. What do you think?” She watches the gears turn in his head as he considers her proposal.</p>
<p>“Zoë would notice that we’re gone,” he says.</p>
<p>“Zoë’s here? I just assumed she was traveling solo again.”</p>
<p>“She’s been holed up in the library working on her thesis. Why do you think I never work in there?”</p>
<p>“Oh, psh,” Petra dismisses his concerns. “She’s living and breathing that thing—it’d be impressive if she even remembers to sleep. And besides, I want to see more with you than just Budapest. And! We could finally hold hands walking down the street.”</p>
<p>She knows Levi doesn’t care about holding hands in public, but there’s clearly something in her plea that appeals to him, because he smiles wryly. “Fine. But in exchange, you have to leave me alone tomorrow—I need to finish the work I had intended to do this week.”</p>
<p>Petra nods, feeling the giddiness bubbling in her stomach. “I’ll book the car rental and Airbnb! Wait. Can you drive? I technically can, but I don’t do it much so I don’t know if you’d trust me behind the wheel.”</p>
<p>“I’m a grown man, Petra. I know how to drive.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Two days later, in the middle of the afternoon, they arrive. After checking in to the small apartment Petra booked, they make their way straight to the lake.</p>
<p>She was right, Levi thinks. It’s so blue and so endless he could almost imagine it goes on forever. Staring at it makes him feel small.</p>
<p>Beside him, Petra takes a deep breath and exhales. “This place reminds me of home.”</p>
<p>“Is it similar to being by the sea?”</p>
<p>“The waters are calmer and the air isn’t salty, but yeah, it’s similar.” She takes another slow breath. “If you ever visit me in Nice, I can show you the real thing.”</p>
<p>She’s wearing a yellow sundress and her hair is tied up in a ponytail, exposing the delicate curve where her neck meets her shoulders. The sunnier spring days have made her freckles more prominent, and he notices that her shoulders are lightly dusted with them as well. He knows he’s supposed to be enjoying the view of the lake, but as he takes in her majesty, he thinks she’s the only thing he ever needs to look at.</p>
<hr/>
<p>“Do you have any other close friends back at home?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“How about distant relatives?”</p>
<p>“If I do, I don’t know who they are.”</p>
<p>“What’s your favorite food?”</p>
<p>“Whatever’s accessible, but I do enjoy a good pretzel.”</p>
<p>“How did you meet Zoë and Erwin?”</p>
<p>“In a teenage group home, after I was kicked out of foster care for the last time.”</p>
<p>A pause. “Do you know how to swim?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Wait. We came to literally the biggest lake in this part of the continent and you didn’t think to mention you can’t swim?”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t under the impression it was a swimmable type of lake.”</p>
<p>“Every body of water is swimmable! Man, I packed my swimsuit for nothing.”</p>
<p>“I never said you couldn’t swim. Do what you want.”</p>
<p>“It’s no fun to do it alone. I can’t believe you don’t know how.”</p>
<p>“It’s not a necessary life skill.”</p>
<p>“It wasn’t necessary to scrub and sanitize our Airbnb from top to bottom either, and yet here we are. Don’t worry, I’ll teach you one day.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want to learn.”</p>
<p>“My swimsuit is really nice.”</p>
<p>“…I’ll think about it.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Maybe it’s the fact that they’re in a new place together. Maybe it’s the evening sun soaking into her skin. Maybe it’s the lavender-scented candle she found on the kitchen counter that is now permeating the entire apartment. Whatever it is, Levi feels light and unburdened here. He feels <em>good</em>.</p>
<p>Petra is sitting on the couch and searching for activities they could do in the area on her phone when he walks over to her, takes her face in his hands, leans down and kisses her.</p>
<p>“Mm,” she hums against his lips. The vibrations of her voice travel all the way down his neck. “Hi.”</p>
<p>“I…”  He hesitates. “I brought condoms.” When she opens her eyes, he searches them to judge her reaction. She smiles widely, with joy more akin to a post-concert high than realizing that she finally gets to have sex.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” She tosses her phone aside and stands up, hands settling on his hips and fingering the waistband of his pants.</p>
<p>He brushes her hair out of her face to look at her clearly, to decide one more time that he’s sure. Her golden eyes are wide; sparkling. “Yeah.”</p>
<p>But now that they’re finally here, he suddenly doesn’t know where to start, stupid fucking nerves. Petra seems to notice, so she pulls him in for another kiss and slips her hands underneath his shirt, gently scraping her fingernails up his back. He shudders at the sensation and threads his fingers through her hair. She gently nips at his bottom lip and a growl rumbles involuntarily in his throat—the sound surprises them both and they break their kiss.</p>
<p>“Wow.” Petra’s voice comes out hoarse, and she clears her throat. “I don’t know if you know this, but you’re really hot.”</p>
<p>This comment emboldens Levi, and he gently pushes the straps of her sundress off her shoulders. The flimsy fabric falls to the floor and he looks down, swallows the lump in his throat—she’s not wearing a bra. She’s standing before him in just her panties, illuminated by the warm glow of the candle and setting sun, cheeks growing increasingly more red under his gaze.</p>
<p>Levi takes her hand and pulls her, admittedly a little impatiently, to the bedroom. “Get on the bed,” he growls, voice thick with lust and nearly unrecognizable. Petra does as she’s told, shimmying onto the bed and laying on her back, arms stretched above her head and hair splaying outwards like a halo.</p>
<p>Fuck, how many times has he imagined this moment? How many times has he wondered how she would look, undressed and waiting for him?</p>
<p>The first thing his mouth connects with when he climbs on top of her is her neck. He kisses and sucks, moving down until he reaches her collarbone, and then finally a breast. She threads her fingers through his hair and sighs softly as he kisses his way to her nipple and gently sucks on it. He tries grazing his teeth against it, and her back arches. “Good?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Yeah, that’s good.” He gingerly closes his teeth around it again, a little harder, and the sound she makes then is much less pleasant. “That’s a bit too much.” Backing off with his teeth, he returns to using his lips and tongue instead, paying equal attention to her other breast and then down her navel, urged on by her quiet moans.</p>
<p>“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Petra whispers breathily. She sits up and tugs at his shirt, and he easily pulls it off his shoulders. It doesn’t even hit the floor before she’s caressing him through his pants. She’s looking up at him to gauge his expression, and truth be told, he has no idea what face he’s making because she’s <em>touching</em> him, and even though there are still some layers of fabric separating their skin, it’s enough to make him dizzy.</p>
<p>He can only watch in awe as she undoes his pants at a speed so slow it must be deliberate, although whether the reason is to tease him or to make sure he’s not overwhelmed, he can’t be sure. She pulls his pants and his briefs down in one motion and his erection springs up. He didn’t realize how hard he’s gotten.</p>
<p>Petra guides him until he’s the one lying on his back, and she easily slides his pants off his legs. He feels uncomfortably exposed; no one has ever seen him naked before. The sheets feel cool against his back.</p>
<p>“Hey.” She rubs his thigh, and he snaps back to reality. “You okay?” Unable to find the words, he nods. “Just let me know if you want me to slow down or stop.” She pushes his legs apart and settles down between them, lowering her head until he can feel her warm breath on him. His cock twitches and his heart pounds. He feels lightheaded, but in a good way.</p>
<p>She tells him to close his eyes, so he does. The darkness makes it easier to focus on the feeling of her hands on him, her fingers wrapping around him—</p>
<p>“<em>Shit,</em>” he hisses through his clenched jaw. His hips buck involuntarily and she reels back, hacking and coughing. His eyes shoot open. “Fuck. Sorry. Are you okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” She manages to laugh between her coughs. “My bad. I’ll go slower.”</p>
<p>The learning curve is steep, he thinks hazily to himself as she leans down again. Levi focuses on keeping his hips still as he feels her lips grazing up his shaft, and then slowly wrapping around him. He lets out a deep, guttural moan, his hands balling into fists.</p>
<p>Her mouth is so controlled. So warm. So wet. Where does she keep her teeth? No, that’s not important right now.</p>
<p>The pace that she starts at is slow—much slower he would’ve ever gone with himself, but combined with the new sensations of her ministrations, it feels divine. She takes her time with him, testing out different pressures with her hands and tongue, and he makes sure to let her know what he likes with the appropriate sounds. Eventually she speeds up, finding a good speed and steady pressure. He opens his eyes and looks down at her head bobbing up and down.</p>
<p>“<em>Fuck</em>. Fuck, Petra. Stop.” She does, and he takes a slow, shaky breath. The sight of her mouth around him was nearly enough to come right then and there. She sits up and wipes a thin string of saliva dribbling down her chin. “Wait here.” He slides off the bed and all but stumbles out of the room. Where the hell are those condoms?</p>
<p>He eventually finds them, folded neatly and tucked away in one of the side pockets of his bag. He returns with them and Petra positively beams, and even though the room is darkening, the sight is enough to blind him. It takes him longer than he’d like to roll the slimy thing on, but he’ll get better the more he does it (and he suspects that he’ll be doing this a lot more in the near future), and Petra is patient, pulling off her panties and leaving little kisses on his hipbones in the meantime.</p>
<p>“You,” he mumbles, sinking down on top of her and aligning their hips, “are incredible.”</p>
<p>“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Her legs spread for him and she reaches down to position him properly. Levi drops his head down to catch her lips in a kiss, and pushes.</p>
<p>All he can say is thank God for condoms, or else he wouldn’t even last a minute. This is a step further than her mouth and then some, and that coupled with the fact that she’s moaning and sharing his pleasure only heightens his arousal. It is hypnotic, intoxicating—Levi understands now why wars have been waged for women and love. (<em>Love?</em>)</p>
<p>The rest is natural and instinctive. Save for one moment when he accidentally thrusts too deep and she flinches, it is delicious and wonderful and everything he could have imagined and more. As the tightness builds in his belly, she urges him on, legs wrapped around his waist and hips lifting to meet his thrusts. It isn’t long after that he falls off the edge, burying his face in her neck and groaning as he comes, shuddering in her arms and seeing stars behind his eyelids. He collapses on top of her and sighs contentedly, relishing the feeling of her fingers running up and down his back.</p>
<p>“That sounded good,” she remarks. He can hear the lazy voice in her smile.</p>
<p>“Good is an understatement,” he mumbles. He breathes for a few moments more before rolling off of her and pulling the condom off, quickly disposing of the thing in the garbage bin. He needs a shower.</p>
<p>“Come back, Levi.” He turns to look at Petra, who’s still laying on the bed, eyes clouded with lust.</p>
<p>He glances down. He’s not ready for round two.</p>
<p>He returns to her anyway, and she grabs his wrist and guides his hand between her legs. “Two fingers, okay? Slow.”</p>
<p>He does what he’s told and slowly slides two fingers into her. Petra sighs and her eyes flutter shut, legs spreading even wider for him. She looks stunning like this. As he gently pumps his fingers, he can feel her tightening around him—and his eyes widen a little when one of her hands reaches down to start touching herself.</p>
<p>“Curve your fingers a bit,” she pants. “Upwards, yeah. Just a little deeper—” The tips of his fingers press against something slightly rougher to the touch and she lets out a loud moan. “<em>Yes.</em> There.” He continues to stroke that spot, eyes glued to the way she’s touching herself, memorizing the motions the best he can so he can do it for her next time. As her movements become more frantic, she urges him to go faster.</p>
<p>Levi, having heard her, decides not to.</p>
<p>“Please,” she gasps.</p>
<p>“You did say I could tease you,” he muses, lips twitching into a smirk.</p>
<p>“Oh my <em>God</em>, you can be so full of yourself—” She interrupts herself with a moan. Levi takes pleasure in the way she squirms and rocks her hips against his hand, trying to get the pressure and speed that she wants even though it’s futile; he keeps the same lazy pace, taking his time until her body finally slumps, quivering with need.</p>
<p>“Ask me again,” he tells her, voice low.</p>
<p>“Please,” she whimpers. “Faster.”</p>
<p>He leans forward and presses a kiss to her inner thigh, marvelling at how soft her skin is there. “Okay.”</p>
<p>It happens fast after that. His fingers speed up, as do hers; her breathing becomes quick and shallow; her muscles squeeze around him, so fucking tight; her eyes are shut and her lips are parted—</p>
<p>Petra’s orgasm looks like a tidal wave crashing down on her, with the way her back arches and body convulses. Her hips buck wildly as she grabs his wrist with her free hand, holding him still and grinding on his fingers. The sight of such raw pleasure is enough to make him hard again.</p>
<p>He counts the seconds until her body relaxes and she releases his wrist (ten) before gently pulling his fingers out of her. The first thing he does is wash his hands, but when he returns, he pulls her in so she’s nestled into his chest.</p>
<p>“Was it the teasing, or do you always come like that?”</p>
<p>“Mm.” She sounds sleepy. “Yes.”</p>
<p>It wasn’t a yes-no question, but he lets it slide. Levi feels a warmth inside of him as he listens to her even breathing. It’s deep, heavy, calming—and for once, it feels like he could close his eyes and doze off in a manner of minutes.</p>
<p>Deciding not to question it, he does just that.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They’re bickering on their walk back from the car rental shop, debating the merits of the fixed versus moveable solfa systems, when they hear an audible shout. She and Levi halt mid-conversation and see Zoë several feet ahead of them, pointing and staring at them with wide eyes. Petra does a scan of herself and Levi: they’re wearing backpacks indicative of a trip, they’re both sun-kissed, and—they’re holding hands.</p>
<p>“What—but—how, <em>when</em>—” Zoë runs so fast she practically teleports to right in front of them. Petra panics and tries to pull her hand out of Levi’s, but his grip on her tightens. “You guys went away? <em>Together?</em> Is that why neither of you answered any of my texts?”</p>
<p>“I never answer your texts,” Levi says, bored. Petra smiles guiltily.</p>
<p>“Okay, but that’s beside the point.” Zoë moves her arms so wildly that Petra can hardly track what exactly it is that she’s gesturing at. “Petra, your sunhat! Your tan! And—Levi, are you wearing <em>sandals</em>?”</p>
<p>“It’s really not a big deal,” Petra says, trying to alleviate the situation. “We’ve actually been together since March—”</p>
<p>“<em>March?</em> You guys managed to keep this a secret for two whole months?!” Zoë rubs her forehead, incredulous, and then grabs her stomach and bursts into laughter. “Wait ‘til I tell Erwin. He owes me two thousand forints.”</p>
<p>“Wait,” Levi growls. “You shitheads were<em> betting</em> on us?”</p>
<p>Zoë shrugs, still chuckling. “You guys were always going to get together. It was just a matter of how and when.”</p>
<p>Petra wonders if only she and Levi didn’t realize the path they were walking towards each other. She wonders if it was as obvious to everyone else as it was to Zoë—she wonders if they know that the road to this moment wasn’t necessarily easy, or painless—but she supposes that doesn’t matter.</p>
<p>What matters, she thinks as she gives Levi’s hand a squeeze even as he continues to glare daggers at Zoë, is that they’re here now. They made it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It has been a hot minute since I've written smut. I'm a bit embarrassed.</p>
<p>Fun fact: Although Hungary is part of the EU, they still use their own currency, Hungarian forints. The 2000 forints that Erwin owes Zoë is equivalent to approximately $10 CAD.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Summer - To Be Continued</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>During their typical Friday night group dinner, Oluo brings up where they should go this year once the semester is over. It’s an annual tradition that everyone values, because it’s the only trip that Petra and Erwin partake in.</p>
<p>“I’m feeling Bulgaria,” Zoë sighs. As usual, everyone turns their noses at her suggestion.</p>
<p>“I’ve wanted to see Greece for ages,” Gunther says. Most others at the table nod in approval.</p>
<p>“Greece would be nice,” Erwin agrees. “What do you think, Levi?”</p>
<p>Levi, who up until this point has been wordlessly eating his pasta beside Petra, says, “I’ve been playing with the idea of Amsterdam.” She perks up and looks at him, but he doesn’t return her gaze.</p>
<p>“Nah,” Oluo says, dismissing the idea. “A few of us have already been.”</p>
<p>“I wasn’t going to invite you,” Levi drawls.</p>
<p>“It’s tradition that we go on a group trip,” Petra explains to him. “We do it every year.”</p>
<p>It’s then that Levi turns to look at her. And although his expression remains lackadaisical, she can see the playful glimmer in his eyes. “Are you saying you’d rather be with them than alone with me?” It’s not a bold comment by any means, considering the other things he’s said (and done) to her in private, but their friends think it’s positively daring, and a small chorus of <em>ooh</em>s travels around the table.</p>
<p>Petra blushes, painfully aware of how everyone’s eyes are on them. “That’s not what I meant…”</p>
<p>“They’re still honeymooning. They don’t care about us.”</p>
<p>“That’s so sad, considering Erwin and Zoë are graduating this year…”</p>
<p>Levi scoffs. “Those two wouldn’t leave me alone even if I paid them.”</p>
<p>“Hey now, don’t go making assumptions,” Erwin says with a mischievous smile. “I’m willing to talk money.”</p>
<p>As the playful conversation continues, Petra can’t help but be distracted by thoughts of Amsterdam. All the pictures she’s seen of it are odd and quaint, with colorful buildings, winding canals, and bikes upon bikes upon bikes. It’s a patchwork city of old and new, history and innovation, solemnness and liveliness.</p>
<p>She glances over at Levi, taking in his crisp white shirt and the sharp angles of his face, looking nothing short of a modern painting, and thinks that he would fit right in.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It is fairly late at night when she thinks she hears something.</p>
<p>Petra removes her headphones and listens again, realizing that the sound is a quick succession of sharp knocks on her door. She checks the time; it’s nearing midnight.</p>
<p>When she opens the door and her eyes meet Levi’s, he has an eyebrow raised in question. “Are you deaf? And why is it so dark in there?”</p>
<p>“Sorry,” she says, smiling sheepishly and flipping on the lights of her room. When she lets him in, she sees his eyes fall on her laptop at her desk. “I was playing a game.”</p>
<p>“A game?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. A horror game. Eld recommended it to me.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t think you were a horror game type of person,” he says.</p>
<p>“I’m not, but concert season is around the corner. It helps me deal with stage fright.”</p>
<p>“Practicing also helps deal with stage fright.”</p>
<p>Petra grabs her pillow from her bed and throws it at him, and although he remains unbothered, he does watch it land on the floor with a hint of disdain. “You <em>know</em> how much I’ve been practicing! Not all of us can handle pressure like you, okay?”</p>
<p>“I know.” Levi joins her on her bed and smooths down her hair. The action calms down the leftover jitters that the video game had instilled in her.</p>
<p>“So?” she asks, leaning against him. “What’s up?”</p>
<p>“Nothing.”</p>
<p>“You just wanted to see me?”</p>
<p>He turns away and doesn’t answer.</p>
<p>Petra smiles, and presses a kiss to his shoulder. Levi can be very affectionate, as long as she knows how to read him. It manifests in the way he remembers everything she says, or the way his eyes always flit towards her to check that she’s alright, or in nights like these, when he visits her for no apparent reason.</p>
<p>“Well, regardless,” she remarks, “I’m glad you’re here. That game was beginning to be too much.”</p>
<p>“What’s it about?”</p>
<p>“It’s a dating sim! Well, it <em>was</em> a dating sim. I play this high school boy who’s in this literature club with four girls—what’s with that look?”</p>
<p>And so begins another night where they simply just talk for hours on end, until the sun begins to light up the sky.</p>
<hr/>
<p>One week passes, then two, and then it’s the most emotionally intense week of Levi’s year. He’s always prided himself in being able to subdue his emotions, but music has coaxed a myriad of feelings out of him, giving him a language that he can safely express himself with. It’s nothing like the monotonous work of his past; deciding to change the course of his life might have been the best thing he’s ever done for himself.</p>
<p>And, he thinks as he watches Petra pace back and forth as they wait outside the concert hall, it did not come without some bonuses. She’s wearing a stunning blue dress tonight and her hair is loosely curled; although he thinks she’s already dazzling without the effort, the formalwear certainly does not hurt. He himself is a little more dressed up than normal as well, with his white dress shirt, black dress pants and freshly polished shoes.</p>
<p>“Relax,” Levi tells her from where he stands, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. “Remember your video games.”</p>
<p>This doesn’t seem to be the right thing to say, and she continues to pace. In the concert hall, he can hear Oluo performing some virtuosic Liszt piece, his fingers undoubtedly flying across the keyboard with skill and ease. It’s ironic, Levi thinks, that they have a student recital at all, considering how one could hear everyone’s performances if they merely took a stroll by the practice rooms in the days prior to today.</p>
<p>He continues to watch Petra walk herself in circles. When applause breaks out a minute later, she stills and watches the door. Looking at her eyes, warm and golden, he knows she’s steeled herself. She’s ready.</p>
<p>Tonight is the first of a string of performances this week. It’s the culmination of many skills he’s developed this year—a way to prove his worth, although Petra doesn’t like it when he thinks about it that way.</p>
<p>As Oluo exits the hall, Petra gives him a high five. Levi hears her counting under her breath—one, two, three—and she steps in, shoulders back and head held high. Levi follows her, probably standing out less than she does, but he doesn’t mind; this is her moment.</p>
<p>They both bow, and Levi takes a seat at the piano, placing his hands on the keys. The audience’s combined suspended breath creates a palpable silence that somehow makes the passing seconds they take to settle incredibly long. Petra glances at him over her shoulder and gives a small nod. He nods back, and plays her starting note.</p>
<p>She takes her breath in tempo and he follows her, just like they’d rehearsed—and together, they begin.</p>
<hr/>
<p>There is a thought that has been sitting at the back of Petra’s mind for the past several weeks—one that surfaces far too frequently for her liking, one that makes her stomach twist in ways she doesn’t like. It’s a bit of a trivial thought, but it bothers her nonetheless:</p>
<p>Levi’s program is only for one year, and that year is quickly coming to a close.</p>
<p>It’s a truth she wishes she doesn’t have to face, but it looms closer by the day. Considering that she has classmates who travel all the way here from Asia, Australia, and the Americas, Germany isn’t truly that far away—only half a day’s travel by plane, just a little hop of a few countries away. But entertaining that thought after being able to see Levi whenever wants is heartbreaking.</p>
<p>The dejection is clear in her quiet sigh, and out of the corner of her eye, she sees Levi look up from his work. His process of studying is meticulous, efficient; papers and books are stacked neatly at the corner of his desk, arranged in the order that he plans to go through them. Petra, on the other hand, is a bit more chaotic, with her notes strewn haphazardly all over his bed.</p>
<p>He doesn’t say anything, but his eyes are asking her what’s wrong.</p>
<p>“I’m just thinking about next year,” she says, smiling sadly. Voicing her thoughts out loud somehow makes it more real. “And how I’ll miss you.”</p>
<p>From the way Levi clears his throat and avoids her gaze, she suspects that no one has ever told him they’ll miss him before.</p>
<p>“You’ll be fine,” he tells her. “You’re graduating next year. You’ll need to focus.”</p>
<p>This was clearly not the type of reassurance Petra wanted to hear, but she says nothing and lowers her head to stare idly at the pages in front of her. He’s not wrong; next year will be intense, and he would be a distraction. Still, the prospect of being able to focus on her studies doesn’t comfort her.</p>
<p>Another minute of silence passes, and Levi sighs. “I didn’t want to say anything in case it amounted to nothing. But.” He pauses, hesitant. “I’m auditioning for the master’s program next week.”</p>
<p>Petra’s eyes widen and she stares at him. He rubs the back of his neck, not meeting her gaze.</p>
<p>“Really? Why?”</p>
<p>“One year isn’t enough. I need more time.”</p>
<p>She thinks about all of the things Levi has accomplished already, and the even greater heights he would inevitably achieve if he spent two more years here in the master’s program. Her low mood from just a few minutes earlier has evaporated into thin air. “You should’ve told me sooner! That’s so exciting!”</p>
<p>“I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. They don’t accept just anyone.”</p>
<p>“Well yeah, I know that. But there’s no way they wouldn’t accept you. Have you <em>seen</em> you?”</p>
<p>“Have you ever considered not exaggerating?” A pause. “Don’t look at me like that.”</p>
<p>“Like what?” Petra challenges. “Like I believe in you? Like I think you’re incredible? Like I love you?” Levi stands up abruptly, sending his chair toppling over. His eyes are alit, intense, and she meets his stare fiercely. “I will say it as many times as it takes to get it through your thick skull. I believe in you. You’re incredible. <em>I love you.</em>”</p>
<p>She wasn’t sure what sort of reaction she would elicit out of him by telling him she loves him (it leaves her lightheaded with blood rushing in her ears), but it certainly isn’t this. He shoves as many of her materials off the bed as he can manage with one swoop of his arm, pushes her onto her back, crawls on top of her, and kisses her deeply. It’s passionate, urgent, wanting.</p>
<p>“Be careful,” she gasps when he sucks on her neck. “You’re going to leave a mark again.”</p>
<p>“I don’t care.”</p>
<p>Petra vaguely hears the crinkling of paper as Levi moves, pulling up her shirt slightly to kiss her stomach before swiftly unbuttoning her pants. The speed and vigor with which he tears them off her leaves her dizzy, and when she feels his hot breath on her inner thighs, she abandons what little rational thought she has left.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He didn’t say it back.</p>
<p>Of course he didn’t. Levi is a man of action, not words. His apologies are in the kisses he presses into her hair. His anger sits in his shoulders and jawline. His joy illuminates his eyes. His grief makes his entire body slump.</p>
<p>And in the aftermath, with the sweat still cooling on their skin and the mess of her papers on the floor that this neat freak of a man made with wild abandon, she can see, clear as day, that he loves her too.</p>
<hr/>
<p>This entire year, Petra thinks, has led up to this moment.</p>
<p>She has just finished her piece in the advanced conducting concert. Her arms remain suspended, frozen, as she waits for her piece to finish breathing. When she feels that the silence is no longer thick, she finally lowers her arms, and the choir relaxes. As the audience claps, she turns to face them and bows.</p>
<p>As she steps down from the podium, Levi emerges from the choir to take her place as the final conductor of the concert. Her hands are now shaking from the post-adrenaline rush but he doesn’t so much as look at her as they pass each other; his mind is set on his goal, eyes clear with razor sharp focus. She is finished, but he is only just beginning.</p>
<p>He’s conducting <em>The Peacock</em> by Kodály, a choral piece near and dear to all Hungarian musicians. It symbolizes the pain and perseverance this country feels at its hardships, and it’s a fitting way to close out the concert.</p>
<p>Levi waits until the choir has flipped to his piece and the sound of rustling paper wanes. His eyes sweep across the choir, as if making eye contact with every person—and then he raises his arms. Petra is frozen, held still by the command his presence holds and the gravitas of his expression, and even though the piece begins with the tenors and basses quietly singing the theme, she still finds herself breathing with his cue, as if he’s coaxing the air out of her lungs.</p>
<p>And two beats before the sopranos come in, singing piano in a difficult register, he turns his entire body to face them, supporting their entrance with his undivided attention, fluid movements, and rounded breath. The high note comes out easy for Petra’s section, delicate and floating.</p>
<p>From the very first note where his hands are open and relaxed; to the climax with his sharp cut-offs, hair falling into his eyes; to the denouement that ends the piece with the message of hope; Petra is rapt, unable to look away, and she knows everyone else in the room is the same.</p>
<p>The concert hall erupts in applause when he lowers his arms. When he turns and bows, she can’t help but think how natural he looks there, how much he seems to belong—no matter the context, she’s positive he must have been a leader in all of his past lives, bringing forth the best in all those who follow him. Once he rises from his bow, the rest of the advanced conducting class steps out from the choir to join him in the front. They all join hands—Petra, beaming, squeezes Levi’s especially tight—and as the applause continues, they all bow together.</p>
<hr/>
<p>He is listening to the opening movement of Beethoven’s fifth symphony, experimentally flicking his wrist, when he sees her.</p>
<p>She is short, shorter than even him—but also brighter and more vibrant than him by leaps and bounds. A smile blooms on her face when she catches his eye, and her pace quickens to join him where he sits.</p>
<p>“I got you a pretzel,” she says, handing him the limp looking thing. For herself, she has a slice of pizza.</p>
<p>Levi pauses the symphony. “How much did this cost you?” There isn’t even some mustard to go with it.</p>
<p>“Let’s not talk about that. Airports are the literal worst.” Petra rearranges their two suitcases into a makeshift table where she places her pizza—Levi wrinkles his nose at the idea that she might think it’s even remotely sanitary. “What are you listening to?” She peers at his phone, and then nods sagely. “Ah, yes. The conducting conundrum for the ages. Luckily, it’s a symphonic piece, so you’ll probably never conduct it.”</p>
<p>“It’s still interesting to think about,” Levi replies, taking a bite of the pretzel. It is aggressively mediocre.</p>
<p>“I’ve never been fond of instrumental conducting,” Petra muses aloud. “Maybe it’s the whole concept of the baton. They seem so mean and impersonal.”</p>
<p>“So I should get one?” he deadpans.</p>
<p>“Well, no—wait, was that a joke?”</p>
<p>Levi’s attention breaks and his eyes flit over to an elderly lady in the distance, carrying a green handbag. His heart lurches.</p>
<p>
  <em>Is this alright, Isabel? Is it okay if I’m happy?</em>
</p>
<p>There’s no answer, of course. Isabel hasn’t spoken in over nine years. And anyway, he was never one to listen to her even when she did speak.</p>
<p>He returns to reality at the feeling of Petra’s fingers skimming against his forehead as she brushes his hair out of his eyes. “Where’d you go?” she murmurs.</p>
<p>“Somewhere far away,” he says quietly.</p>
<p>“Can you take me there one day?”</p>
<p>He only visited her grave once, after he had finished his rehabilitation program. Perhaps he’s due for another visit.</p>
<p>“Yeah. Maybe.”</p>
<p>The airport chime rings over the intercom, and their flight is announced to begin boarding shortly. Petra’s eyes light up, and she grabs her pizza to finish eating it before they fly off to Amsterdam. Levi glances at the pretzel in his hand, wondering if she’ll be offended if he just throws it away.</p>
<p>“Hey Levi, where should we go next time?”</p>
<p>“Let’s decide that after this trip.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but it’s so <em>exciting</em>. There are so many possibilities now that we know you’re coming back next year! There are still so many places in Hungary I want to show you…”</p>
<p>He’ll give himself full permission one day, he thinks. Conditional happiness is more than he’s ever had, and for now, that’s good enough for him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The horror game that Petra was playing is Doki Doki Literature Club.</p>
<p>Aaand that wraps it up! It's probably been years since I've written something this long, and it was so cathartic. Even though it was ultimately for myself, I'm so glad that others have enjoyed it too.</p>
<p>I currently don't have a sequel planned, but I also purposely left enough open ends that it could happen one day. I'd love feedback on what you thought of this fic - until next time, take care!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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